Unknown Number
by magickmoons
Summary: Castiel was tired of getting dragged out to bars by his friends looking to find him Mr. Right/Right Now. So, when he finally got a guy's number one night, he was happy. Then he texted it... * All human AU
1. Chapter 1

**Unknown Number**

 **Genre:** AU, slash, angst, fluff (I really have no idea where this is going)  
 **Ship:** Dean/Castiel  
 **Summary:** Castiel was tired of getting dragged out to bars by his friends looking to find him Mr. Right/Right Now. So, when he finally got a guy's number one night, he was happy. Then he texted it...  
 **Notes:** chapter 1 of this fic was written to a prompt from unforth's Writing Prompt Wednesday (Week9: Texting AUs). It was so well received on AO3 and so many people asked for a continuation, that I did indeed continue, and wrote myself into a multi-chapter fic that I still don't know how I'm going to resolve...

Also this site is messing with the text formatting a bit, but I think you can follow as it is.

* * *

 **Unknown Number**

 **Chapter 1**

Castiel pressed send on his phone before he could talk himself out of it. It hadn't been quite 24 hours yet, but that wasn't too early to text was it? It's not like he was calling. Just a quick 'how's it going' message.

He stared at his phone, waiting, for a minute before he realized that he couldn't expect Bartholomew to just be waiting by his phone. The man had seemed very busy when they had met at the bar last night, alluding to some important job that Castiel hasn't gotten a very good feel for; he had been rather vague about the details.

He put a sad-looking frozen dinner in the microwave and stared at the stack of files he had to review. With a sigh he sat down and pulled the first one off the top of the stack.

He had just started to read when his phone buzzed. He grabbed it quickly to see a reply on the screen.

 _? whos this?_

Crap. Balthazar was right; he was rubbish at social interaction. He had texted too early. Or too late. Or maybe he was just being a pain in the ass, but since his dating 'drought' had apparently approached levels so critical that his best friends had dragged him out every Friday night for the past month, determined to find somebody for him, he plowed ahead anyway. Maybe he could salvage this.

 **This is Castiel. We spoke at the bar last night.**

 _r u sure? what bar?_

Castiel stared at his phone in consternation. He'd been called many things in his life - quirky, difficult, overly literal - but never forgettable.

 **Heaven's Gate. Around 9 PM**

 _not me, dude_

 **Is this Bartholomew?**

 _nope. Dean_

Castiel rechecked the number he had entered against the number scrawled on the cocktail napkin. They matched.

 **I'm not very good with humor. Is this some type of joke?**

 _sorry, man. :/_

 **I don't understand. This is the number he gave me last night.**

 _ya well we all know how that goes_

Castiel was confused. Bartholomew hadn't been drunk. How did he make such a mistake?

 **I'm not sure that I do know. Is this a common mistake?**

No immediate text pinged back. Castiel retrieved his dinner from the microwave and sat back down, waiting to feel the sting of disappointment that apparently he couldn't contact Bartholomew, but it didn't set in. If he was being very honest, his reaction was more along the lines of relief. Bartholomew had been moderately attractive, in a rather plastic sense, but there hadn't been any spark. He had really only gotten the man's number to avoid seeing the pitying looks that Gabriel and Balthazar had been giving him over the past weeks, when each night ended without their definition of success.

He sighed. Maybe if he didn't tell them about Bartholomew's ruse, he would be safe from social abductions 'for his own good' for the next week or two.

His phone beeped as he was 2/3 of the way through the year-end projection in front of him. He ignored the phone until he finished reviewing the numbers.

 _hate 2 say... probably not a mistake_

Castiel stared at the phone wondering what this stranger - what Dean - meant by that.

 **I don't understand.**

 _yknow, sometimes u give a wrong # so u don't have to turn a guy down to his face_

Castiel felt his cheeks burn hot. He hadn't felt so foolish in years. He set the phone down gently, and randomly shuffled through the papers in front of him. He would much rather Bartholomew had turned him down at the bar, even laughed in his face, rather than giving Castiel an opportunity to share his humiliation with a complete stranger. How could he have misinterpreted their interaction so badly?

His phone buzzed, and he reluctantly picked it up, ready to see the jibes. He supposed he'd earned it.

 _Castiel? U still there?_

 **Yes. Thank you, Dean, for explaining. I was unaware of this technique.**

 _it's a pretty dick move if u ask me_

 _i mean, its one thing if ur a creep. but u seem pretty nice_

Cas smiled, the latest text somewhat lessening his embarrassment, although he wasn't sure how Dean could tell anything at all about Castiel other than his complete social naivete. It was a nice gesture, however.

 **I apologize for interrupting your evening. Thank you for being so kind.**

 _lol... my 'evening' consists of reheated leftovers and the dr sexy marathon_

Castiel gaped at his phone.

 **And here I was thinking that you were a person of taste.**

The instant he sent the text he wished he could take it back. His sense of humor was hard enough to understand in person, so he'd been told; there was no way that it would transmit through a text message.

 _! :( i woulda said the same about you til now_

 _bartholomew aside_

Castiel studied the message. It could be interpreted either as Dean being upset about Cas' text, or that Dean knew Castiel was being humorous and replying in kind. He chewed on his lip, unsure how to answer.

 _j/k ;p_

 _you ever actually watched the show?_

Cas smiled, strangely relieved that he hadn't inadvertently driven away this new acquaintance.

 **I have not. I must confess that my judgment comes from little more than seeing ads and hearing others talk about it.**

 _ok then. sit ur butt down & turn on channel 3. we're gonna educate u!_

Castiel made a half-hearted effort to tell himself that he should continue working, looked at the stack of files, then back down to his phone. With a shrug, he settled on the couch and turned on the television.

 **Okay. Enlighten me**

And it did turn out to be an enlightening experience, although Castiel didn't learn very much about the show. Dean kept up a series of texts filling Castiel in on the inside jokes and references to previous episodes. But it was the other texts that Castiel found himself looking forward to, at first they just came during the commercial breaks, but soon, they were carrying on a conversation through the show itself.

Dean had a sharp sense of humor, was fiercely loyal to his brother and a seemingly small group of friends, and an intelligence that Castiel thought Dean tried to hide, even from himself. At the end of the three hour marathon, Castiel found himself strangely relaxed, smiling while sitting alone in his living room, and looking forward to the ping of the text notification on his phone.

The closing credits rolled on the TV, and a voiceover heralded a sitcom re-run 'Up Next!' Castiel's phone showed midnight as he saw the next text from Dean.

 _so, not a bad way to spend sat nite huh?_

Castiel grinned as he replied, even though he wasn't, strictly speaking, referring to the show.

 **No, it was quite enjoyable.**

He yawned and turned off the television as he waited for Dean's next text.

 _kinda sorta like a date_

Castiel smiled softly.

 **This was a great deal more enjoyable than most of my recent dates, actually. Thank you.**

He shrugged as he sent the message; he was probably stretching the definition of 'recent' with that remark, but Dean didn't really need to know that.

 _ouch. maybe we should try to change that huh cas?_

Castiel rolled his eyes. Just what he needed: someone else to bug him about being alone. Someone who barely even knew him, at that. He stood and gathered his dishes to put into the sink, content to leave them there for the morning. He grabbed his phone as he was walking out of the living room, debating whether to tell Dean off for butting in, or just ignore him. The text screen was still displaying and his eyes fell on the last text again.

He re-read it.

Dean had written maybe _we_ should change that. As Castiel stopped walking and stared at the words, another text came in.

 _course if you'd rather hunt down Barth i understand_

 _well not really but what can i do?_

 **no**

Cas typed the first thing that came to mind in an effort to avoid Dean thinking that Cas wasn't interested and shutting down his phone. He winced as it came out sounding exactly the opposite of what he intended. He started typing again.

 **By no, I am of course referring to any inclination to pursue Bartholomew**

 **He was tolerable at best, and nowhere near as intriguing as you.**

He paused, awaiting Dean's reply, but none was immediately forthcoming. He did have Dean's number and could always try again the following day, but was worried that his attentions might be unwanted. After all, all Dean really did was answer an errant text message.

With a sigh, he started shutting off the lights.

 _intriguing? Stop man, you're making me blush_

 _so you saying you'd b up for a date?_

Castiel smiled widely at his phone and nodded.

 _with me_

 **Very much so :)**

 _did u ust smiley face me? Mr formal texter_

 **:) :) :p**

Castiel chuckled as he hit send, suddenly giddy.

 **It's getting late. I'm getting a little silly. Apologies.**

 _no apology needed. But it is late. I've got an early shift tomorrow. Can I call u in the evening?_

 **I look forward to hearing your voice**

 _me2_

 _your voice i mean_

Castiel grinned at the phone. It seemed he wasn't the only one who got a little punchy late at night.

 _and keep next fri open, k?_

He swallowed a moment of hesitation - making a date with someone he'd never even officially met was so unlike him. However, the way he'd been doing things had netted rather pathetic results. So, maybe it was time to change things up.

 **Friday. Ok.**

 _night Cas_

 ** _Good night, Dean_**

He put his phone on the charger and got ready for bed, buzzing with excitement and anticipation about tomorrow's phone call.

He almost wished he knew Bartholomew's real number, so he could call and thank him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Unknown Number  
Chapter 2**

 _see Chapter 1 for author's notes_

* * *

Dean parked and jumped out of the Impala, forcing himself to not slam the door in his hurry. Just because he was running late was no reason to treat his baby with disrespect. He chewed on his lip as he crossed the Roadhouse parking lot; he had intended to get here early and take a few minutes to relax before Cas arrived. Now, he was ten minutes late and already stressed. He paused outside the door to take a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "It's just a date, Winchester. You've got this," he whispered to himself.

He stepped into the restaurant, finding some comfort in the familiar atmosphere. He scanned the small crowd, looking for anyone who could be Castiel, finding a handful of regulars and a group of college kids near the pool tables getting a head start on whatever they were celebrating this Friday night. He had just spied a lone, dark-haired man sitting in his regular booth with his back to the door when Jo popped up in his face with an excited smile.

"Hey, Dean!" She gave him a quick hug and bounced back, smirking. "So, your hottie got here a few minutes ago. I went ahead and put him at your favorite table."

He rolled his eyes at his honorary sister's needling. "I do not have a fav... Wait. Okay. He's hot?"

She nodded. "Yup."

Dean's eyes flicked to what he could see of the back of Castiel's head. "How hot?"

"Pretty damn. You know, for an old guy," she winked. Dean groaned. It had been over 15 years since Dean had been the object of a pre-teen Jo's first crush. His 16-year-old self had thought it easiest to let her down with 'You're too young for me.' She hadn't let him forget it since, especially once his age could be measured in quarter-centuries, at which point he'd officially earned the nickname 'Old Man' when she wanted to be particularly annoying.

"You're such a brat," he muttered. Her laughter followed him as he made his way back to the booth.

Castiel looked up as he approached. Dean slid into the opposite seat on auto-pilot, struck silent by exactly how 'hot' Cas was. Fucking gorgeous was a much better description, Dean thought, as he studied the man sitting in front of him. Thick, dark hair - either artfully mussed or entirely out of control - framed a strong, open face, full lips, and the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. It was not at all what Dean had expected from a self-described 'socially inept' accountant. No, Dean thought Castiel was much better described as a model; better yet, a movie star, Dean decided when Castiel smiled in greeting. No way would still photos do justice to the light in his eyes, the way his whole face gave over to the smile. Dean flushed when he realized he still hadn't said anything.

"Hey, Cas," he finally said, forcing his words past an embarrassed mumble.

"Dean, it is very good to see you." Cas' smile softened, but he returned Dean's gaze with intensity, his eyes scanning Dean's face with interest.

"Hey, beer!" Dean finally noticed the two glasses already on the table. He grabbed the one in front of him and took a quick sip, just enough to chase the dryness from his mouth.

"Sorry I'm late," he said.

"That's fine, Dean. It wasn't long. And your friend, Jo, kept me company for most of it."

Dean groaned and looked over to the blonde standing by the bar, not even trying to hide her grin as she watched them. "I'll bet she did."

Castiel laughed at Dean's grumpy tone. "She didn't have time to tell me any embarrassing stories, if that's what you're worried about."

"The night is young," Dean lamented, wondering why exactly he had thought it would be a good idea to bring Cas here for their first in-person date.

"So, I hope whatever kept you wasn't serious."

"Nah," Dean shook his head. "My brother and his wife are expecting a baby in a couple of months. Jess had a prenatal appointment today, but something came up with one of Sammy's cases, and he couldn't get away to go with her."

"Well, it's lucky you were available."

"It's family, man." Dean shrugged nonchalantly, but he couldn't suppress the grin that always seemed to emerge whenever he thought about the impending new Winchester. Today's visit had been entirely routine, and Jess was entirely capable of handling it by herself, but Dean suspected that she and Sam were going out of their way to make sure he was as involved as possible.

"Anyway, the doc was running late, and then I wanted to make sure Jess was settled afterwards, because it sounds like Sam may be pulling an all-nighter."

Jo sidled up to the table just then, order pad in hand. "All right, fellas, what'll it be?"

Dean threw her an impatient look.

"Okay, the usual for Dean." She rolled her eyes, then looked at Castiel. "And for you, handsome?"

"The same," Castiel answered. Before Jo could question the order, Cas explained, "Dean has waxed poetic on the food here more than once, so I am fairly well-acquainted with his order."

"Nice to know you're drumming up business for us, Dean!" Jo laughed as she headed back to the bar to put their order.

Dean nodded seriously at Cas. "Just wait. It's gonna be everything I said."

Castiel's voice dropped, and he leaned over the table, staring directly at Dean. "Oh, I believe you. And I have really been looking forward to this." He took a deep pull off his beer. Dean couldn't stop watching Cas' tongue trace his lips to pick up any residual traces of the drink. His heartbeat picked up, and he swallowed nervously, reaching for his beer. The thrill of arousal simmering in his blood was both welcome and frightening. It had been a long time since he felt like this.

Castiel couldn't resist allowing his tongue to linger on his lips an extra moment, enjoying the way Dean's eyes followed the movement. It was almost unbelievable that the man with whom he had accidentally initiated a friendship could not only be drop-dead gorgeous, but could find Castiel attractive as well. However, the heat in Dean's gaze left little room for interpretation.

Dean suddenly flushed and pointedly looked away. "So," he said, forcing his eyes back to Castiel's, "Are we saying this is a first date?"

"Isn't it?" Castiel tilted his head slightly as he considered the question. "We haven't dated before."

Dean shrugged, twisting his beer bottle in controlled half circles on the table. "We've had some text dates, kinda."

"Well, that's true. But I would like to treat this as our first official date."

"Why?"

It was Castiel's turn to shrug. "I guess I'd like to avail myself of the full Dean Winchester first date experience. After all, we kind of just fell into our texting "date" last weekend." Castiel lowered his hands quickly as he heard Gabriel's voice in his head - 'Air quotes, Cassie? Really? What are you, a fifth-grade girl?' He winced, but Dean didn't seem to notice.

"Okay, the Dean Winchester first date experience. Let me search my memory," he said drily. "It's been a while."

"Really? I have to say that I'm a little surprised to hear that. I would think that you'd have no shortage of dates."

Dean shifted awkwardly and gave a forced-sounding laugh. "Yeah, well, don't let these rugged good looks fool you. I'm actually a real ass."

A shadow crossed Dean's face as he spoke, and Castiel was tempted to argue the point. He'd only known Dean for a week, yet he was quite certain that the man was kind and caring and loyal to a fault. But even Castiel could recognize Dean's very unsubtle redirection for what it was. No discussion of dating history tonight: check. He searched his mind for a new topic.

"Occupations are a typical first date discussion point, yes?"

The forced mirth in Dean's eyes softened into something more genuine. "Yeah, but Cas, I already told you what I do -"

"First date, Dean." Cas raised an eyebrow, and Dean sat back, hands lifted in surrender.

"Okay, occupations it is."

"So, Dean," Castiel began earnestly. Dean choked back a laugh, but quickly schooled his expression when Cas narrowed his eyes. "So, you're a police officer?"

"Yep, since college."

"I would imagine that it's probably not as exciting as the make it out on TV."

Dean made a face. "Not really, no. Mostly just keeping people out of places they're not supposed to be, investigating when little old ladies hear raccoons knock over their garbage cans."

Castiel nodded, waiting to see if Dean had anything to add. He wasn't very surprised when Dean redirected the conversation back to Castiel.

"And you're an accountant. Is that ... ?" Dean gestured toward Cas with his beer.

"Exactly as boring as you'd think," Cas answered with a sheepish grin.

"So why do you do it?"

Castiel sipped his beer, thinking. Most people didn't ask about the why; once they knew the what, they were just anxious to move along to a more exciting topic. "Well, I was always good at math. And frankly, when they said 'Pick a major,' it was first on the list, alphabetically." He shrugged. "It pays the bills.

"But you, I find it hard to believe that you don't any exciting stories, Dean."

"I guess there might be one or two," Dean grudgingly admitted.

"Say, maybe one involving rescuing a young boy from drowning in the lake?"

Dean blinked. "Wha... Cas, did you google me?"

Cas gave an apologetic smile. "I did. I'm sorry."

"Nah, man. That's pretty smart." Dean nodded in approval.

"I mean, you were just this stranger I met accidentally on the phone. And just because you had an incredibly sexy voice and a great sense of humor, didn't necessarily mean you were who you said you were, and not an axe murderer. Ergo... Google."

"You think I have a sexy voice?"

Castiel's cheeks burned as he realized what he had said, but was saved from answering by the arrival of their dinner. Jo set their plates in front of them and added a couple of glasses of water. "You want another beer?" she asked Cas.

He looked over at Dean who was busy pouring ketchup over his fries and showing no interest in the question. "No, thank you. Water's fine."

Jo smiled. "Okay, then. Enjoy. Give me a yell if you need anything."

Dean had his burger poised halfway to his mouth with a look of intense anticipation before Jo had walked two steps away. He grinned at Cas. "Prepare to experience greatness."

The burger was exactly as good as Dean had made it out to be, and there was very little discussion for the next few minutes. Eventually, though, Castiel did have to initiate conversation before he exploded given the soft little moans of pleasure coming from Dean as he enjoyed his meal.

They kept the conversation light from that point on, discussing that week's Dr. Sexy episode - "See, Cas, I knew you'd be a fan!" - and random stories of friends and family.

It wasn't until some time after Jo had cleared their plates away, and the bill had been paid, that they noticed the boisterous crowd around them as the Friday night partiers began to show up. Dean nodded toward the door, raising his voice to be heard. "I think maybe we should head out. They're gonna start setting up a band in here pretty soon, and then it'll just get crazier."

Castiel got up when Dean did. While he certainly didn't mind avoiding the crowd, he wasn't in a hurry to end their date. He wondered if Dean would be amenable to finding some other activity they could share for the rest of the evening.

They were almost to the door when Jo appeared out of nowhere and pulled Dean to the side with an apologetic look to Castiel. She hugged Dean, stretching up to whisper something in his ear.

He pulled back with a look that was both horrified and embarrassed, shaking his head as she pressed something into his hand with a mischievous look. She waved to Cas before disappearing back into the growing crowd.

Dean was still shaking his head as he rejoined Castiel at the exit. Once outside, Castiel took a moment to adjust to the relative quiet. Then, unable to deny his curiosity, he asked, "What was that about?"

"Just Jo fulfilling her honorary little sister pain-in-the-ass duties," Dean grumbled, blushing. He opened his hand to reveal four foil packets. "I told her it's only our first date, but..."

Castiel laughed. "Well, at least she has a healthy respect for our stamina."

Dean gave a half shrug. He ran his hand lightly down Castiel's arm and slipped the packets into Castiel's jacket pocket with a vague nod.

Castiel didn't get a chance to give voice to his confusion as to what exactly Dean was implying with his actions before they were interrupted by an enthusiastic, "Dean! Dude, how you been?"

The newcomer, currently giving Dean a firm shoulder slap, looked a little something like a reject from a casting call for a bad 80s movie, complete with mullet, jean jacket, and a hair-band t-shirt. Castiel tried not to stare.

"Ash, good to see you, man." Dean motioned between the two men. "Cas, this is Ash: bartender extraordinaire slash electronics guru. Ash, this is Cas."

Ash gave Castiel a slow, appraising look, then grinned. "Good to meet you, hombre. Glad to see you got this guy out." He indicated an increasingly uncomfortable looking Dean with a jerk of his thumb. "Ain't seen Dean here on a Friday night since... a while." He trailed off, eyes bouncing between Dean and Castiel.

"So, you guys coming or going?" he resumed.

"Ah, we're heading out. It's getting kind of crazy in there," Dean replied.

"Gotcha, gotcha. Sounds like I better head on in, then. Dean, don't be a stranger, alright?"

Throwing them a half-salute, Ash disappeared into the restaurant, leaving Dean staring pensively after him, and Castiel feeling a little lost.

After a few seconds, Dean shook himself. He chuckled. "So, yeah, Ash is ... something else. Hell of a good bartender, though. Knows every drink in the book. We always tried to stump him, but..."

Dean scanned the parking lot. "Anyway, let's get away from here before anyone else I know shows up."

Without waiting for an answer, he started weaving his way through the cars. Castiel followed him, unable to resist noticing Dean's ass - beautifully showcased in a pair of worn to perfection jeans - even as he tried to figure out what had happened to change the tone of their evening. He was pretty sure it wasn't him; it had been Ash referring to the last time Dean had been there. It had affected Dean deeply: his easy-going attitude was gone, and an undercurrent of tension could be seen in the set of his shoulders.

Lost in thought, Castiel almost bumped into Dean when he stopped next to a sleek, black car. He looked at Cas with an almost bashful smile.

"This is your car?" Cas asked, already certain of the answer. Dean had talked about his vehicle with nearly as much pride as he spoke about his brother.

"Yeah, this is my baby." Dean ran a hand proprietarily along the the hood, eliciting a frisson of excitement as Cas imagined that deft, sure, gentle touch on his own skin.

"She really is beautiful, in such good condition for an older car."

"Classic car, Cas. Classic."

"I stand corrected." Cas smiled at Dean's mock outrage, and looked back over the car, determined to give it the proper attention. His eyes were drawn to the backseat. It looked fairly roomy, as seemed common with older cars, but still was likely to be a tight fit for two 6-foot-plus (give or take) men. That didn't stop a brief flash of longing though.

He looked up to find Dean watching him, his fantasy obvious, and seemingly welcome if the intensity of Dean's gaze was anything to judge by. Dean quickly licked his lips, his eyes roving over Castiel's face, cautious but hopeful. Castiel took one small step, close enough now that it felt like they were touching, even though the smallest gap still existed. He touched Dean's cheek, absently noting the smoothness that probably meant he had shaved that afternoon, and gently drew him forward with his fingertips.

Dean's lips were soft and warm as they moved tentatively against Cas'. His arms were wrapped around Castiel's waist, holding him tightly. Wanting more with every fiber of his being but unwilling to push given Dean's recent hot and cold attitude, Castiel settled for soft nips and brushes across Dean's lips, waiting to see where Dean took things.

The first touch of Dean's tongue was electric. Castiel gasped and automatically responded in kind. Dean's hands wormed under Cas' jacket, fisting tightly in the thin cotton of his shirt, yanking Castiel impossibly closer. With a groan, Castiel let go of his tightly-held control and gave in, deepening the kiss, cupping Dean's face in his hands, angling his head for better access, tasting Dean's tongue and lips, breathing in his needy moans. For a minute, it was perfect: warm and wet and need and want. Castiel shivered when Dean's mouth skated along his jaw, the drag of his tongue promising even more.

"Dean," he whispered, a plea, an adoration, as he angled his head to allow him better access.

Without knowing how it happened, Castiel suddenly found himself at arm's length from Dean; their only point of contact, the flat of Dean's palms still pushing against Cas' chest.

"Dean?" Castiel questioned quietly.

Dean's eyes were wide as he stared at Castiel, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as he shook his head. He swiped a hand across his face and gave Cas a weak smile. "First date, remember?"

His words bounced around Castiel's lust-addled mind before making any meaningful connection. "First date, right," he echoed. They had agreed that this was a first date, and that demanded certain propriety. Such as not engaging in spur-of-the-moment sex in the backseat of his date's car. Castiel desperately tried to get his body and his mind on the same page, regardless of the avalanche of hormones rushing through his system.

Again, Dean was circumnavigating the truth. Cas wanted to ask what had really just happened, to offer comfort or assistance, but as he opened his mouth, he saw Dean watching him, the flush of arousal already dulling, his expression guarded and tense.

"Of course, Dean," he answered instead, taking another step back.

It may have been a flash of disappointment that he saw on Dean's face, or it may have been relief. Either way, he gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Yeah, maybe we should call it a night."

Castiel pushed aside his disappointment. Physical pleasure aside, he would have greatly enjoyed spending the rest of the evening with Dean. Their conversation over dinner had been just as, if not more, enjoyable as their text and phone conversations had been.

"I had a very good time tonight, Dean."

Dean swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, me too."

A kiss goodnight was obviously out of the question, and the idea of a handshake seemed awkward, so Castiel just smiled and nodded his farewell. He could feel Dean's eyes on him as he walked to his car, parked closer to the entrance. He waved once he'd unlocked the door, at which point Dean gave a nod and disappeared into the Impala.

Castiel settled into his seat, but didn't start the car, trying to sort through the conflicting emotions of the night. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find a text message from Gabriel.

 _If u r gettin some action, IGNORE THIS_

 _How'd the big date go?_

He tapped the screen to reply, but found he didn't have an answer. As he stared at the phone, he heard and felt a low rumble as Dean's car passed him and pulled out of the lot. He watched the car swallowed up by the darkness, its tail lights turning at the end of the block.

The text message screen dimmed, tired of waiting for his response. With a sigh, he slid the phone into the center console and started the car. How'd the date go? Maybe by the time he got home, he'd have figured out the answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Unknown Number  
Chapter 3**

 _see Chapter 1 for author's notes_

* * *

Dean paced around his apartment, unable to settle down, unable to stop thinking about the confused look Castiel's face earlier that evening. God, he'd been such a dick to the guy. He growled and threw himself onto the couch.

He'd never really meant for it to be a 'date.' Yeah, they got along great over the phone, and cas had a wicked sense of humor, and was smart and kind. Dean had really just wanted to make sure the guy had a good time; it sounded like things had been rough lately. But then he'd seen him - bedhead, blue eyes, and those sexy, sexy, kissable lips - and everything had turned upside down.

And that kiss. It had been like coming home, and not just in the sense that Dean hadn't kissed anyone in over a year. Even now, he was terrified by just how badly he wanted to taste those lips again, by how much he needed to feel Cas pressed against him.

was not happening. But now that it had, had he screwed the rest of it up? Would there be anymore Dr. Sexy phone marathons? Random texts through the day? He had already grown so accustomed to Castiel's constant presence throughout the day, that he almost grabbed his phone to text him. Scowling, he punched the pillow next to him. It didn't do anything to settle him.

His phone rang, and Dean scrambled to dig it out of his pocket. He pushed away the disappointment when he saw Sam's name and answered.

"Dean! Hang on." Sam's voice was garbled by whatever he was trying to hastily chew. "That's better. Sorry, thought it would ring through to voicemail. You said you had a date with that Castiel guy."

"Yeah, I did. Back home now though. I can talk."

Dean listened to the sound of shuffling papers for a few seconds before Sam responded. "Huh. Little early, isn't it?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess. It was just dinner, man."

"How'd it go?"

Flashes of Cas' laugh, his eyes, the warmth of his hands against Dean's skin spun through his mind. He bit his lip. Hard. "It was fine."

"Oh, well, that's ... satisfactory, then."

"Sam," Dean growled.

"Dean, listen, it's okay to enjoy yourself. You know Vic -"

"Shut up, Sam. Just don't even go there."

His brother sighed. "Okay. Why don't you tell me a little bit about Castiel, then."

He shouldn't, Dean knew that. What he should do was hang up the phone, free the six-pack from the fridge, and spend some quality time drinking himself to sleep. What he shouldn't do was smile as he answered, "Well he says he's this nerdy little accountant dude, but man... Not nerdy. Definitely not little."

Sam made a gagging sound. "TMI, dude."

"Not that. Get your mind out of the gutter. I was talking about his height, bitch."

"Jerk."

"Yeah, whatever. What'd you want, anyway?"

"What?"

Dean shook his head. "Why'd you call me, Sammy?"

"Oh yeah! I was gonna leave a message that Jess wants to know what nights you're free for Sunday dinner this week."

"Sunday" dinner was a tradition among the three of them since Sam and Jess had moved back from Stanford. It was the brothers' attempt to create some type of family tradition that Sam would want to pass on to his kids. None of them had traditional 9-5 work schedules, so Sunday became whatever day they could all get the time to be together.

Dean considered his upcoming shifts. "Yeah, I've tomorrow or Thursday, I think."

"I'm in the office all weekend, but I might be able to swing Thursday. I'll let Jess know, and one of us will get back to you."

"Cool."

"Okay, well, I've gotta go. Talk to you soon. And Dean? It's okay to move on." Sam hung up before Dean could respond.

He tried to swallow around the lump in throat. Sam meant well, but he just didn't know. He walked over to the collection of photos hanging on the wall: Sam and Jess' wedding portrait; the photo of him sitting on his mom's lap holding an infant Sammy that Jess had had digitized and restored for them; his Academy graduating class. He stared at the line of young, uniformed officers. It was impossible to miss Victor, standing proud and tall, so handsome, and way too damn good for the likes of Dean. He shook his head.

"What the fuck were you thinking, man?"

Feeling the familiar ache building behind his ribs, he spun around and headed for his meager liquor supplies. Fuck the beer. This night required something a lot stronger.

Castiel still hadn't arrived at any answers by the time he arrived home. He changed into some comfortable clothes and settled on the couch with a cup of herbal tea. Sighing, he pulled out his phone. There were no new messages, but Gabriel's question remained on the screen.

 _How'd the big date go?_

 **I don't really know**

He clicked the TV on and flipped aimlessly through the channels while he waited for Gabriel's response. He hesitated when a Dr. Sexy episode appeared, but continued on after a moment. His phone buzzed as he was debating the merits of a nature documentary he was almost certain he'd seen before versus Ancient Aliens.

 _U don't kno? Well if ur home this early, couldn't have gone that good :p_

Castiel rolled his eyes.

 **A date doesn't have to end with sex to be good, Gabriel.**

 _Sez u_

 _But why the doubting Castiel? Dean not everything u thought? Too short, too loud, ugly?_

He grimaced. If only. Then he wouldn't be in this situation, and he'd still have his new friend.

 **None of those. He was rather perfect.**

He considered his answer and added,

 **For a while.**

 _And then..._

 **I don't know.**

 _Hang on._

After a minute with no further messages, Castiel put his phone to the side. He let his head fall back against the cushions with a sigh. Why was it so hard to get to know people? Once he broke through that 'new person' barrier, he was fine. It was just that he didn't do well at the whole forging a connection bit. Either they clicked or they didn't. And even if he felt it, not too many people felt like navigating his particular quirks enough to get to know him better.

He was okay with that. In general, Cas preferred quality over quantity. He had really only been humoring his friends when he got Bartholomew's number. There was no real chance of a connection there. He was good-looking enough that Castiel considered him a pleasant alternative to his right hand for a few nights, but nothing more would have come out of that.

But Dean... Castiel had actually let himself hope. Their texts and phone calls had been so easy and enjoyable. Dean hadn't seemed bothered by the peculiar personality traits that had put others off. And at the start of the night, it had seemed that it would continue to be just as easy in person; truthfully, he had been everything Castiel could have hoped for.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. After squinting through the peephole, he opened the door, puzzled.

Gabriel balanced a pizza on one hand. "I hate eating alone, man."

Castiel stood back to let Gabriel in. "I actually did just eat dinner, you know."

Gabriel held up the six-pack in his other hand. "Well, I certainly didn't get this fruity beer just for me." He set his offerings on the coffee table and looked disdainfully at Castiel's cup. "Tea, Cassie? Really?"

He carried the cup and saucer to the kitchen and came back with some plates and paper towels. "Help yourself, man, and tell me all about it."

With a resigned shrug, Castiel opened a beer. Taking a swig, he grabbed a slice of pizza and settled back onto the couch. As they ate, he told Gabriel all about the night. Gabriel was uncharacteristically quiet while he spoke. After he finished, Castiel grabbed a slice of pizza, just for something to do as he waited for Gabriel's input.

"Okay, option 1. You sure he isn't seeing someone else? Could be a little cheater's guilt?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, I didn't get that impression at all. Besides, he suggested we go to the restaurant he habitually frequents. We ran into two of his friends, and neither seemed upset or concerned to see him with me. On the contrary, they both seemed very encouraging."

"Encouraging, huh? How encouraging?"

Cas squinted as his friend, unsure what information he was looking for.

"Encouraging like you're the experiment date? That maybe segued into his Big Gay Panic?"

Castiel considered the idea. It wasn't without merit, especially given the severity of Dean's withdrawal after their makeout session by the car.

He shook his head slowly. "It could be, I suppose. But, I don't know, it just doesn't seem like Dean. I mean, we haven't exchanged 'coming out' stories or anything." Castiel ignored Gabe's grimace. "But I got the impression that he's pretty comfortable with who he is."

Gabriel snorted. "Dude'd have to be if he's telling complete strangers about his Dr. Sexy obsession."

Cas glared at Gabe who just smirked unrepentantly.

"Anyhoo, the only other thing I can think of is that you're the Rebound Guy. Bad breakup, unresolved issues that he's not quite over. He likes you, but still feels attached to the previous dude-slash-ette."

Castiel stayed silent and picked at the pizza crust on the plate in front of him, shredding it into small bready strips.

"Hey, Rebound Guy can be a good thing! You get great sex - all that breakup intensity - with practically no strings. Couple weeks later, you're both merrily on your way."

And for Gabriel, that would be a bonus. But Castiel wanted strings; he wanted stability and someone to come home to at night, someone to care about. And, possibly foolishly, he had allowed himself to think that Dean might be that for him. That the easy camaraderie of their texts would translate to a face-to-face relationship.

One thing he knew after meeting Dean - touching him, tasting him - he couldn't do casual with Dean Winchester.

"Or hell, maybe he just had an intestinal issue of epic proportions and was too embarrassed to say anything."

Cas groaned and flicked the biggest shred of crust he could find at Gabriel. "Just shut up now, please?"

"Shutting up."

There was a whole 30 seconds of silence before he spoke again. "So, I'm guessing you don't want to go out tonight?"

Castiel laughed. "Go, Gabe. Have fun, get high, get laid, whatever you're looking for tonight."

His friend was already halfway on his feet,but hovered uncertainly. "I could stay, if you want the company."

Castiel looked fondly at Gabriel. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm okay. Just gonna get to bed early and see what the morning brings."

He saw Gabriel out and quickly cleaned up the small mess they had made in the living room. He tried to keep his mind off of Dean and their date as he got ready for bed, but it was useless. He considered the possibility that Dean just wasn't physically attracted to him. But then he remembered the sounds Dean made, the pressure of his arms pulling Castiel even more tightly in. Physical attraction did not seem to be an issue.

Definitely not an issue on his part, he reflected, as he got into bed with arousal simmering through his veins. He tossed and turned, trying to ignore it and find a comfortable position to no avail. Memories of the night, Dean in his arms and needy kisses, skipped through his mind.

Giving it up as a lost cause, Castiel grudgingly shoved his boxers past his hips. The first gentle touch of his fingers to his already hardening cock pushed the low-level arousal into high gear. He finally let himself freely think about Dean, his hands, his lips, the light in his eyes. Dean's strength under his hands had been beautifully challenging, the way he had given himself over to the kiss nothing short of intoxicating.

A shuddery inhale accompanied the image of Dean's lips closing around his cock, and he blindly reached for the lube, slicking his hand up just enough to let himself tighten up as his desire built. The memories of the sounds Dean had made earlier played on a loop; he could imagine the way Dean's mouth would soften and contract around him, could imagine the soft rumble of Dean's moans against his sensitive shaft. He reached his other hand down to cup his balls firmly, thumb nearly stroking the soft skin, as he began pushing his hips up into his fist. Chanting Dean's name on strained breath, his need spiraled down into a hot ball of wanthotneednow before exploding in a the most intense orgasm he'd had in months, possibly years.

He lay there quietly panting, already feeling chilled in the empty bedroom. He pushed his boxers the rest of the way off, then used them to wipe his hand and stomach clean, before tossing them toward the corner of the room.

"Well, fuck," he muttered. That was not going to help anything.

A buzz from his night table alerted him to an incoming text. He wearily grabbed the phone off the charger and looked at it. When he saw Dean's name, he pushed up on his elbow and opened the text screen.

 _srry_

 _give me 1 more chnce?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Unknown Number  
Chapter 4**

 _see Chapter 1 for author's notes_

* * *

What the fuck did he just type? Dean stared at his outgoing text:

 **give me 1 more chnce?**

then glared balefully at the glass on the table beside him, now empty of all but a few drops of whiskey. He'd just meant to ask for a chance to explain, to tell Cas that all this wasn't his fault, that he just couldn't do a relationship right now, not even a friendship with potential.

And, okay, so maybe between drinks he'd been playing with the idea of seeing where things went with Cas, but he thought he had quashed that. The words dancing around his screen said different.

Son of a bitch.

 **ignor this convo pls been drnking**

Almost immediately, his phone buzzed an answer.

 _Are you all right, Dean? Where are you?_

Dean stared at his phone in disbelief. Figured that Cas would be the kind of guy to be worry about Dean, even after what he'd done.

 **y arnt u yelling at me**

 _I have no reason to yell. But I will if you don't tell me that you're ok._

Dean chuckled. He had thought Sam was the only human able to communicate pissiness through text. Apparently not.

 **fine. at home.**

 **and u should b mad at me**

He really, really should. Dean nodded, in total agreement with himself. He had promised Cas a good time, then went and fucked that all to hell. Cas would have even been better off with that Bartholomew guy, probably.

No, definitely. Better off with anyone other than Dean. Hell, Dean had done him a favor. Shouldn't go out with strange guys you meet via wrong number, anyway.

He forced himself to stop nodding. It took a minute for the rest of the room to get the message and stop moving as well. Once it had, he reached for the whiskey bottle and started to tilt it toward his glass, almost dropping the bottle when his phone buzzed again. Focusing on the screen, he saw several notifications from Cas. He set the bottle back down with a frown, the glass still empty. If he was gone enough that he'd missed multiple texts, he probably needed to stop for the night.

 _I'm not mad at you, Dean. But I am worried. Why are you drinking, presumably alone?_

 _If it's about tonight, please don't worry. Sometimes things just don't work out._

 _We can still be friends._

Dean huffed a half-laugh at that one.

 _Now I don't know if you're ignoring me for the cliche, if something's wrong, or if you've just passed out. PLease answer just to let me know you're ok._

His fingers hovered over the tiny, virtual keyboard, trying to figure out what to say. He wasn't okay, but that sure wasn't Cas' fault, or his responsibility. Dean didn't want to lie to Cas, but he didn't want him to worry, either. And he seemed to have developed an irritating habit of typing things he didn't really mean to at the moment.

The phone rang. He answered before he thought better of it.

"Dean, good. I apologize if I've overstepped, but I just needed to be sure you're okay. I can hang up now." He could hear the concern in Cas' voice, and just for a moment let himself enjoy it, whether or not he deserved it.

"Don't hang up," he said into the silence.

"Okay."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

Dean's laugh might have sounded more like a sob, but Cas didn't comment. "Not really, no, but I guess I kind of owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything, Dean."

Cas' voice was so nice and warm. Dean just wanted to wrap himself up in in and not move. He slid down till he was laying flat on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the armrest so that he could stretch his legs out.

"Maybe you don't think so, but, yeah, I really should. Just, not over the phone man."

"I understand." Dean's eyes fluttered shut as he listened to that soothing voice. "And please know that I won't hold you to anything tomorrow, if in the sober light of day you decide differently."

"Y're a goodguy, Cas." Dean wasn't sure that he'd actually gotten all the words out he intended to with that, but he was really tired and enunciating was such hard work.

"Dean? Are you falling asleep?"

"mmmmmm" He snuggled down deeper against the cushions. This was nice. If he let himself believe it, it was almost like Castiel actually cared, was there with him. And he probably shouldn't let himself indulge in the fantasy, but it was only for the night. Just for a little while.

"Don't go to sleep yet." The voice was still gorgeous, but slightly more pointed. Dean frowned. "Dean, you need to get up and drink some water before you sleep. Maybe take an aspirin."

Dean shook his head.

"I know you don't want to, but you will be thankful you did, come morning." Dean lay there debating the merits of Cas' proposal. Comfort now versus comfort in the morning. With a groan, he pushed up to a sitting position.

"That's good, Dean. I want you to drink at least one whole glass of water, then refill it and leave it beside your bed."

"'Kay," he mumbled. He shuffled to the kitchen and filled a glass, drinking down the water in great gulps as Castiel talked on about taking care of oneself and staying hydrated. Dean wasn't following the actual words, just the voice. Care and concern without expectation. He carried the refilled glass to his room and set it down, stripped down to his boxers, juggling the phone as he did so, and flopped onto the bed with a grunt.

"Under the covers, Dean," came the gentle admonition. "Then you can sleep."

He wiggled his way under the covers and sighed contentedly.

"Good night, Dean."

"Night Cas."

He was asleep before the soft beep of Cas disconnecting sounded.

It was disgustingly bright out when Dean opened his eyes. He threw a hand across his face as he quickly realized his mistake, rolled over and tried to fall back into the relative painlessness of sleep. His alcohol-filled bladder and throbbing head had other ideas, and soon enough he was staggering to the bathroom.

He grabbed the glass off his nightstand and gulped the water down when he returned to the bedroom. The water from the night before must have helped - his headache was definitely there, but not quite at 'chop it off' levels. It was as he thought, _Good call, Cas_ , that memories of the night before crashed through his consciousness.

He'd offered to tell Cas the whole story. The Story. Not even Sam knew everything. No one did.

He sat down heavily. "Son of a bitch."

What the hell was it about Cas that made Dean lose all sense of what he should and shouldn't do or say?

He grabbed his phone just to check that it wasn't all some alcohol-induced nightmare. And nope, there was a nice long call logged with Castiel, along with numerous texts, including one unread, received just after 1AM that morning.

 _I'm here if you want to talk, but please do not feel any obligation_

Dean tossed his phone onto the bed with a sigh. That was why: Cas was just so damn nice about everything. He shook his head, ignoring the bolt of pain that generated. Castiel could do so much better than him.

By the time Dean was out of the shower, he'd decided that he was just going to lose Cas' number. Better for everyone that way.

By the time he had breakfast on the plate, he'd talked himself back into telling Cas about Victor, reasoning that once he knew what a dick Dean really was, Dean wouldn't have to worry about losing his number, and Cas wouldn't feel rejected. Instead, he could rest secure in the knowledge that he'd dodged a bullet.

He stared at his phone while he ate. If he thought too much about it, he would have to admit that there was a part of him that was upset by the idea of running Cas off. And maybe a part of him hoped that the acceptance and friendship Cas had offered the night before might survive. Dating would definitely be off the table (not that Dean wanted to, except that it had been kind of nice to feel that connection again, to be touched, to want to touch), but maybe they could salvage a friendship.

But he couldn't let himself think about all that. There was no percentage in fixating on the what-ifs. So, as soon as he finished eating, Dean pulled up Castiel's contact info and hit Call.

Castiel pulled into the parking lot adjoining the neighborhood park. The playground was a mass of kids, climbing and swinging, enjoying their weekend afternoon in the mild autumn weather. Others roamed the grassy field, tossing balls back and forth. He savored their joy as he made his way to the far side of the field, almost a little jealous of how simple life was for them.

His life had been simple a week ago. He had been content, if not joyful. Before Dean Winchester and his abrupt emotional u-turns. It was hard enough for Castiel to navigate his friendships with Gabriel and Balthazar, who tended to be as shallow and obvious as a person could be; understanding Dean could very well prove to be beyond his capability. It would have made more sense just to have taken the obvious out that Dean had tried to hand him last night, but there was something about the man that made Castiel hesitate to walk away too quickly.

Dean had sounded so lost on the phone the previous night, and Castiel had found himself drawn in despite himself, compelled to provide direction and comfort. He had honestly thought it would end there; Dean's call that morning had been a complete surprise. And despite some residual misgivings, Castiel found himself here, approaching Dean as he sat on a bench, just where he had described, reading a letter as he waited. Castiel glimpsed some type of official-looking letterhead before Dean looked up and saw him.

"Hey," Dean said, giving him a relieved smile. "I wasn't sure you'd actually show up." Castiel was struck by how green Dean's eyes were in the daylight; the bar had been too dim to truly appreciate them the night before. Absolutely gorgeous.

Dean's smile wavered when Castiel didn't reply. "Not that I would blame you."

"No, no, I, uh..." Castiel looked over at the kids playing on the far side of the field to distract himself. "I'm here." He looked back at Dean, who was methodically folding the letter and putting it back in its envelope. "What's that?" Castiel asked, just before realizing that it was probably a very rude question.

But Dean's smile brightened proudly, even as he blushed. He slid the envelope into his jacket pocket as he answered. "Oh, yeah, this. I, um. I took the Detective's Exam a few weeks ago. Stopped by to pick up the results on my way here. I passed."

"Congratulations, Dean." Castiel took a seat, leaving a carefully calculated distance between them. "You must be very proud."

"Yeah, I am." Dean sounded almost surprised. "My captain wanted me to take the test. We've got a few people retiring pretty soon, and he wants to move me up." He shook his head. "I didn't really think..."

"I'm sure you will be a great asset."

"Thanks, Cas." They fell into a quiet that straddled the line between comfortable and un, as Dean grew increasingly tense. He chewed his lip for a moment before sighing. "So, I guess I should get this over with."

"Dean, I'm happy to listen, and I want to help if I can, but you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." Castiel was unsure where Dean's insistence on telling him this story came from; he feared it stemmed from a misplaced sense of guilt.

Dean gave a half-nod. "Yeah, I know," he said slowly. "But, I kinda feel like I have to tell you, tell someone. So..." He looked at Castiel, waiting for permission.

Castiel nodded. Dean took a deep breath and visibly steeled himself. Castiel waited patiently, unsure what was coming, but wanting to give Dean the freedom to move at the pace that made him most comfortable.

"There was a guy ... Victor," Dean began haltingly. There was love in his voice, but also pain and regret, and Castiel's heart already ached in anticipation of what he would hear.

"We met at the Academy. We were buddies almost right away ... well, once we got over our competitive streak." He chuckled briefly at the memory. "By the time we graduated, we were ... well, we were more than friends. We both got positions at the department here, and it got ... serious. And then we were living together. It was a good few years." Dean smiled fondly.

"But Vic always had bigger aspirations than local law enforcement. A couple years ago, he was accepted to the FBI's training program." Dean laughed. "The day he was notified, man, you would've thought he'd won the lottery. He just could not shut up about it." He shook his head in fond exasperation at the memory. "Happiest I'd ever seen him, really.

"He had to move down to Quantico for New Agent Training; it lasts almost six months, and we didn't know where he'd be assigned once he'd graduated. So it just made sense for me to stay here and we'd figure out what next once he had his assignment. The training was pretty intense - he was always studying or just flat out exhausted. We only saw each other a few weekends during the whole time."

Dean sat lost in thought for a while, watching the kids playing across the field. Castiel watched Dean. Just in the course of the conversation, he seemed aged, burdened, and Castiel bit back another offer to let Dean skip the rest of the story. This was something he obviously needed to talk about.

"He was assigned to the New York field office. Not exactly next door, so commuting was not an option. The plan was that I would start looking for a job near him, and move once I found something."

Dean blew out a breath. "It wasn't conscious or anything. I mean, I looked up some job openings, scouted a few departments, but after a few months went by, I realized I hadn't actually applied anywhere." He paused. "And it started to dawn on me that maybe I didn't miss Victor quite as much as I should. Not the way you should miss someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, you know?"

Dean's jaw was clenched, his eyes slightly off-focus, caught up in the past. His voice was rough. "Didn't want to tell him over the phone. We had a long weekend coming up, was gonna drive out and talk to him then."

He looked away, swallowed harshly. "There was an incident, a couple of days before my trip. Vic and his partner were supposed to pick up a couple of fugitives and transport them back to the city. Supposed to be a cakewalk."

Dean gave a mirthless laugh. "Famous last words. No one really knows what happened. There was an explosion. Vic, his partner, the local leos, the prisoners... they were all killed. You might have heard about it."

A sick feeling settled in Castiel's stomach. The story had dominated the news for weeks the previous year. Castiel had followed the story with the morbid fascination of the uninvolved, as investigators tried and failed to determine the cause.

"Dean, I'm -"

"Please don't Cas. Everyone was so fucking sorry, felt so bad for me." Cas tilted his head as he listened, surprised at the target of Dean's anger. "I stood there at the funeral and played the grieving boyfriend, accepted their condolences. I just didn't know how to tell anyone that ... it had already been over. I didn't deserve any more sympathy than anyone else."

Dean's bitterness was palpable. From the little Castiel knew about Dean's past, he understood that the man had a complicated relationship with the death of those close to him. Victor's death wouldn't have been easy in the best of circumstances, but with already complex feelings, Dean seemed determined to let it fester into some sort of guilt.

"Dean, you haven't shared this story with anyone since then, have you?"

He shook his head, his gaze focused steadily on the ground. "No. Why?"

Castiel leaned forward far enough to hover in Dean's peripheral vision. "Because I can't believe that your brother or your friends would let you continue to feel guilty about something for which you bear no guilt."

Dean looked up at Cas out of the corner of his eye. "It was all a lie, man. And I just let it ..."

Cautiously, Castiel rested a hand on Dean's shoulder, pleased when he didn't shrug it off. "You loved him, didn't you?"

"I wasn't in ..."

"You don't have to be in love to love someone. And you loved him."

Dean nodded silently.

"You had been together for years. He was a large part of your life, even if his role was changing. There's no crime in accepting support from others for a loss like that. You didn't do anything wrong."

Dean's shoulders tensed under Castiel's hand. He looked up after a long moment, his eyes shimmering. "I didn't tell him. I had been dodging his calls when I could, kept it short when I couldn't." He shrugged. "Didn't want to say too much. Didn't want to have to lie."

Castiel ran his hand in soothing circles across Dean's upper back, feeling the rhythmic motion of Dean's deliberately steady breathing.

"For what it's worth," Castiel offered, "I would have done the same thing. Waited to talk in person, I mean. You couldn't have predicted what would happen."

Dean shook his head. "He deserved better than that, Cas. He gave me everything, and I couldn't even move for him. Didn't even realize that for how long? I just left him hanging and confused. And I can't fix that."

He sat up suddenly with a huff of breath, brushing his hand across his face. "So, yeah, that's the story." He looked challengingly at Castiel. "And now that you see how spectacularly I can fuck up a relationship, I guess you'll be on your merry way."

Castiel held back his instinctive response to Dean's challenge. He was hurting and vulnerable and throwing up walls to push Castiel away and protect himself. But there was no way Castiel was abandoning him to the despair and self-reproach written all over his face. Even had he not already felt invested in Dean, simple human decency demanded more.

"I'm still here," he replied simply, calmly. "And I don't intend to go anywhere."

Dean shot him an exasperated look. "Didn't figure you for a glutton for punishment."

Castiel chuckled drily. "That, I definitely am not. But I will not leave a friend alone in pain when I can help."

Dean's whole demeanor transformed. His expression turned hard and smirking, his whole body tense and defensive. "You can help, huh? What, you gonna pull out a secret time machine?"

Again, Castiel reined in his natural response, taking a deep, slow breath. Dean was very good at pushing his buttons, but it would be pointless to answer snark with snark.

"No. I'm sorry that things happened the way they did, but we both know that the past can't be changed. What I can do is help you see that it doesn't mean you are unworthy of friendship or love."

The space between them was heavily charged, and Castiel began to get a true sense of how very dangerous Dean could be - sharp-witted, physically powerful, emotionally intense. He was banking on his short experience with Dean that he was not a violent man. If he was wrong, things could get messy pretty quickly.

The moment stretched between them, Castiel all calmness and acceptance, Dean a swirling mass of anger and confusion. Then Dean gave a shuddering gasp and his whole frame slouched, suddenly free from the anger that had been holding him so tense. "Why?"

Castiel held Dean's eyes as he spoke. "Because I think you need to be reminded that good things do happen, Dean. Because I mistakenly dialed your number one night, and you were kind to me. Because you are a good man with a good heart. And because I like you."

Dean's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "Don't know why, man."

Castiel shrugged. He wasn't entirely sure, either. But Dean was fascinating and challenging, and interested him in a way no one had done for years.

Dean shifted. "And about that. I don't what you're thinking, but I just don't think I'm ... I mean, last night kind of backfired 'cause -"

Castiel nodded, and Dean stopped his stumbling explanation. "I understand, Dean. I've been very happy with the friendship we've been building. We don't have to pursue anything beyond that now. Or ever."

Dean let out a relieved sigh. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." He nodded. "So... friends."

"Friends," Castiel confirmed. It would be disappointing, Castiel thought, if that was where their relationship stayed. But to try to force it before Dean was ready would be disastrous for both of them. And in the meantime, he would at least have Dean's company.

They sat quietly. Castiel enjoyed the slight breeze that had picked up as they spoke. Seeing Dean falling deeper into his own thoughts, he stood up. "I think I'll be going now."

Dean looked up at him and smiled. It was tentative - too much of the pain from his past still haunted his eyes - but it was there. "Yeah. I think I'm just gonna hang here for a bit."

"Of course."

He turned to leave, but stopped when Dean called him. "Cas, I'm actually gonna be able to watch this week's Dr. Sexy episode when it airs. Maybe I could call you? We could phone-watch it together?"

Castiel grinned. "I look forward to it."

* * *

Author's Note: And this is my Kill Your Darlings chapter. The only resemblance it to how I originally envisioned it is in the details of Dean's backstory. Which leaves me wondering where they go from here. Additionally, I have to turn my attention to my fic for the DCJ Big Bang, so it may be a while before I get back to this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Unknown Number  
Chapter 5**

 _see Chapter 1 for complete author's notes_

 _Wow, what's this? Another chapter? Bet yall thought I'd forgotten about this, but nope! I'll never abandon our boys ;D_

 _So, this chapter is short, and kind of transitional because I think there may be plot coming around the bend. I've got a few more writing commitments (I'm trying to get something together for the DeanCas TropeFest and my annual SG1 Jack/Daniel Ficathon) for the summer, but I'm hoping to post a chapter a month for this story. Of course, I'm the poster girl for 'Best Laid Plans...' and I meant to have this up two weeks ago, so we'll see._

* * *

"Come on, Cassie. Just take a look." Balthazar grabbed Castiel's chin and pivoted his focus to the end of the crowded bar. A good looking, dark haired man raised his drink toward them and gave an exaggerated wink.

Castiel groaned. "Zar, I told you I would come out to keep you company. But I am not interested in picking anyone up tonight."

Balthazar shook his head. "You can't wait for your mystery phone stranger forever."

"I'm not waiting on Dean. I just happen to be happy with my life right now. I feel no need to sleep with random strangers just because I can."

"We only want the best for you, Cassie baby." A very drunk Gabe draped himself over Castiel's back long enough to say his piece before he began sliding bonelessly floorward. Balthazar caught him by the arm and hauled him upright.

"Looks like I'd better get this one home." Balthazar signaled for the check.

Gabe latched onto Balthazar's arms and steadied himself. "Good. Home. Gotta talk to Kali."

"Uhhh, no. As I recall, she is the reason behind tonight's truly epic bar tab. Which, thankfully, is on your card." Balthazar muttered as he scrawled a signature and retrieved Gabe's credit card from the bartender.

He looked at Cas. "Sure you don't want to find your own way home?"

Despite himself, Castiel looked past his friends to where the dark haired man was already chatting with someone else, hand on his knee and working upward. He chuckled. "I think I'll be leaving with you."

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "That's the trouble with this lot. No patience. Well, let's get going, then."

They bracketed Gabriel between them and somehow maneuvered through the mass of bodies, out the door to a waiting cab. The ride to Balthazar's was spent trying to keep Gabe alert enough that they wouldn't have to carry him into the apartment.

Finally, they dumped him on Balthazar's couch with matching sighs of relief, set a trash can next to him, and retreated to the kitchen, out of earshot of Gabe's drunken mutterings about Kali.

"I swear, Castiel, this is the last time. Next time she kicks him out ... " Balthazar shook his head, and poured them each a glass of sparkling water.

Castiel chuckled. "And yet you keep pushing me to find a relationship."

Balthazar looked horrified as he sat down. "First - Gabe and Kali do not have a relationship. They have a often enjoyable, primarily Machiavellian, power struggle.

"Second - I have never in my life urged anyone to find a relationship. How frightfully boring! I simply think you need to get laid, my friend. Remind your dick that there are other hands besides yours in the world."

Cas laughed. "My dick thanks you for your concern, but respectfully tells you to mind your own business." He sipped his water. "We are very different people, Zar. We want different things."

One had only to look at their respective living spaces to see the truth of that. Cas kept his place utilitarian and practical, with a couple of homey touches here and there to break up the monotony. Balthazar's apartment was a tribute to hedonism, everything designed to stimulate (some might say 'assault') the senses - colors, textures, lighting.

"Of course we're different. But I'd like to think we both want you to be happy."

Balthazar's words followed Castiel all the way home. He wanted to be happy, of course he did. He just didn't need to be constantly getting laid to do that.

Even if he wasn't exactly happy, he was certainly content.

And he wasn't waiting on Dean. Not exactly.

They had continued their texts and phone calls, building a very enjoyable friendship, sharing stories about their days, passing on dumb jokes. It was pleasant.

But Dean had not brought up meeting in person again. He hadn't promised anything, really, but Cas had hoped that, given some time, Dean would want to revisit moving beyond friendship. There had been something between them, Cas was sure of it.

But it had been over a month. Maybe this was Dean's way of saying he wasn't interested.

 _Fuck, maybe Balthazar's right? Am I waiting on Dean? Because as nice as phone calls and texts are, they don't compare to a smile - his smile - or a warm body to hold._

Cas lay quietly in bed, frowning at the ceiling.

If he wanted those things, he'd have to go after them.

But the problem was that he wanted them _with Dean_ \- and Dean was either not ready or not interested. Either way, Cas wasn't going to push him.

But he was lonely. That small glimpse of what could be ...

Damn it, Balthazar was right. He was waiting on Dean. And with no assurance that they were even looking at the same goal.

Maybe it was time to get back into the dating pool. The image of the bar earlier flashed through his mind, and Castiel groaned.

There had to be a better way.

Dean sat in the car for a minute, listening to the engine tick through its cool down, collecting his thoughts. Outside, the sky was gray and heavy. _Kind of fitting_ , he mused with a grimace. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the car, stretched out the ache of a couple of hours drive time, and started walking. The small parking lot was practically deserted, and the crunch of gravel under his feet was obvious in the still air when he reached the path.

He had to stop to check his handwritten directions once, but all too soon, he was there.

"Hey Vic," he said quietly, as he surveyed the small burial plot. He hadn't been back to the cemetery since the interment, and he was relieved to see that it looked well cared for. The gravestone Vic's sister had chosen was simple and sturdy looking; he thought Vic would have approved.

"Sorry I haven't visited. I just ... " he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and tried to ignore how ridiculous he felt talking to empty air. "I just couldn't. Man, I let you down in so many ways."

He crouched and ran his fingers back and forth through the grass, seeking out some sort of tactile connection. "I keep wondering if you knew, what you were thinking those last few weeks. I hope you were happy. You deserved so much more."

A soft sound echoed through the air, and Dean looked around, but no one was there. It was probably just a squirrel or a loose branch, which was good, because there was no way he could get through this if someone was nearby.

"So, I met someone. His name's Castiel." He bit his lip. "Not my usual type. I don't know if it's gonna be something, but I think I kinda want it to. It's just ... "

He pressed his hand into the dirt, feeling it cool and gritty against his palm. "Cas thinks I need to forgive myself. Sam does, too. I told him, Vic, I told both of them all of it. And Cas said it wasn't my fault, and Sam spouted a ton of Dr. Phil crap about closure and a bunch of other stuff that I didn't really pay attention to. But I guess what it boils down to is that I need you to know that I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry it wasn't ever gonna work between us, not the way you wanted it to. I couldn't leave Sammy, couldn't leave home, not even for you, and I don't think you would've ever been happy staying in just one place. I mean, we did a really good job pretending that wasn't an issue, but ..."

Tears trailed cold on his cheeks, and he roughly brushed them away. "And I'm fucking furious that some bastard with an explosion fetish took away our chance to say goodbye."

Dean forced himself to breathe. He hadn't come here to get angry.

"But we had some good times, didn't we?" he murmured with a soft smile. "Some damn good times. And I ain't ever gonna be sorry for that."

A sudden feeling of relief passed through him. For the first time since Vic's death, the time they had spent together was well and truly separated from the pain and shock of his death.

"Well, I'll be damned." He shook his head and pointed a warning finger at the gravestone. "Sam and Jess can't hear a word of this. I'd never hear the end of it: 'You've got to talk about your feelings, Dean. Remember how it helped with Victor?'

"But okay, maybe it works. Sometimes."

He stood, lost in thought for a while, as memories of his time with Victor resurfaced from where he had buried them. There was still a tinge of pain, but the love and friendship and laughter in those memories were chipping away at the mountain of grief and guilt that he had covered them with.

"Yeah, so I've got some good news too. Sammy's gonna be a dad any day now. I have never seen the kid so freakin' nervous, not even when he took the bar exam. It's hilarious. But he's gonna be great.

"And I made Detective. I know I said I'd never try for it, but Bobby made me take the exam. That man will not take no for an answer. Rufus is retiring in a few weeks, and it looks like I'll take his spot."

He talked for a little while more, sharing random tales of guys on the force, small pieces of his life in the past year. As he spoke, he realized how much he had missed sharing his life with someone. Even after the words stopped, he waited a bit longer, resting his hand against the cold granite of Victor's headstone.

"Goodbye."

The word hurt, a kind of a dull ache in his chest. It wasn't fair that things had ended up this way. But who ever said life was fair? Dean snorted. He rapped his knuckles against the stone.

"I'll miss you, man."

Before the new wave of tears could spill over, he started walking back to the car, hands jammed into his pockets, head down to avoid anyone he might run into. As he approached the main path, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he stopped abruptly. He slowly pivoted 360 degrees, his eyes searching through the shadows among the trees.

There was no one there.

 _Damn cemeteries always give me the creeps._ With one last look, he shook himself out of it and continued back to his car, looking forward to a quiet afternoon at home. Now that he'd gotten past this, he had a lot left to think about.


	6. Chapter 6

**Unknown Number**  
 **Chapter 6**

Note: There is a quick Cas/Inias thing in this chapter. We move on almost immediately.

* * *

Dean was glad to put the cemetery in his rear view mirror, especially that creepy feeling of being watched. He rolled the windows down, blasted Zeppelin through the speakers, and tried to decide how crass it would be to just drive straight to Cas's place. Of course, there were a couple of problems with that plan: 1) he didn't actually know where Cas lived, and 2) it was a Tuesday, and Cas was probably at work.

So, he had a little time to figure out how to approach this. _Gotta do this right. I think I've already used up all my second chances._ He drove along, relying on the easy familiarity of his Baby to let his mind drift through different scenarios. _Wanna take it slow; well, I don't want to, but yeah, definitely give Cas all the time he needs to see that I'm serious this time._

He was about half an hour from home when his phone rang, the display lighting up to show Sam's name. He activated the hands-free system distastefully - safety first, sure, but he always felt like such a douche using a speakerphone in his friggin' car.

"Hey, Sammy," he bellowed over the wind noise. "Is the littlest Winchester ready for the world?" Jess's due date was Friday and they were all anxiously awaiting the big event.

"Dean." Sam's voice was somber, and Dean's smile vanished. He checked the traffic behind him and pulled onto the shoulder, switching to his actual phone.

"Sam, what's wrong? Is Jess okay?"

"Yeah, she's ... It's not ... " Sam stumbled through his reply and Dean's heart skipped a beat. Whatever was happening, it wasn't good. "Dean, Rufus had a heart attack. I just got off the phone with Bobby. He said it looked pretty bad."

Rufus Turner was a constant presence in the Winchester's lives for as long as Dean could remember, and a fixture in the department. He and Chief Singer were the epitome of the grumpy, old, indestructible cop.

"Fuck," Dean breathed, trying to wrap his mind around the news.

"Yeah," Sam echoed. "I'm heading to the hospital now. See you there?"

"Yeah." Dean blinked the stupor away and nodded. "Yeah. I'll be there."

He sped toward the hospital, his mind racing a million miles a minute. _Rufus, you bastard, you'd better not fucking die. You hate cliches and nothing is more fucking cliche than dying just a few weeks before retirement. So don't you fucking dare._

Dean made it to the hospital in record time, even for him. Sam had still beaten him, and was already standing in the ER waiting room with Bobby. Dean grabbed each of them into a bear hug.

"What do we know?"

"Nothing, yet," Bobby answered as Sam shrugged. "Nurse said someone will be out to talk to us soon."

"Okay, yeah." Dean nodded. "So, we just wait?"

"For now," Sam offered.

"I don't ... " Dean stammered, looking around at the bland paintings on the walls, the pastel seats, wishing this were a crime scene, so that he'd know what to do.

"What happened?" he finally asked.

"What happened? He had a heart attack," Bobby barked.

"I get that, but why? What caused it?"

"Thirty plus years too many of eating like he's still in college happened."

"Fuck." Dean kicked at a chair leg that had never done him any harm. It didn't make him feel any better, but he tried it again just in case.

Sam scowled at him.

"Fuck," he said again, louder this time, attracting the attention of the people sitting nearby. He gave them as much of an apologetic smile as he could muster.

It wasn't too much longer before the ER do came out front to speak to them.

"Mr. Turner had a major cardiac event, and scans show a significant arterial blockage. We've scheduled him for a bypass tomorrow. We're optimistic that he will come through it just fine, but he is looking at a long recovery."

Dean kept himself from kicking the chair again. Surgery - no matter how positive a face the doctor put on it, it was dangerous.

"When can we see him?" Bobby asked.

"We'll be moving him to his room shortly, You can visit once we've got him settled."

The doctor left the three of them staring at each other.

"Well, balls," Bobby finally said. "Damn fool waited till I got all the paperwork started for his retirement, then throws me this curveball."

Sam gave a brief laugh. "He's always gotta keep you on your toes, Bobby. Listen, I'm gonna step outside and call Jess, let her know what's up." He grasped Dean's shoulder as he left.

Bobby sighed and gave Dean a tired look. "Why don't we sit down?"

Dean allowed himself to be nudged toward an open seat. Bobby settled in beside him. After a few minutes, he spoke.

"Well, it sounds like Rufus is going to be riding medical leave right into retirement." He looked at Dean. "We're going to have to move up your promotion. I'll be here tomorrow, but first thing Thursday, I'll start the paperwork to expedite things. In the meantime, I'll need you to start getting up to speed on his cases."

"Yeah, I can do that," Dean answered numbly. He felt Bobby's concerned gaze and pasted a half smile on his face when he looked up. "Not really looking forward to trying to decipher his chicken-scratch notes, but I'm sure Jody can fill me in on anything I just can't figure out."

Bobby nodded slowly. "Yeah, you just follow her lead. She'll steer ya right."

"Yeah," Dean repeated. He leaned his head back until it hit the wall. "God, I hate hospitals."

Bobby sighed. "Why don't you head out of here, Dean? There's nothin' you can do."

"I can give Rufus a piece of my mind for scaring the shit out all of us."

"Dean, it ain't been that long since we were here for your dad."

Dean bristled. "People die, Bobby. I got that. Learned that one loud and clear real early on. Fires, bombs, bullets. All ends the same." He winced away from Bobby's frown of concern.

"I can handle it, Bobby. This is a completely different situation."

Bobby grunted, but didn't say anything else.

 _God, please let this be a completely different situation._ The childhood fear that had manifested after his mother's death - his four-year-old mind's interpretation of some well-meaning family member's platitude that 'the ones we love are taken from us too soon' - roiled noisily around his chest, stuck in his throat. He pointedly didn't look at Bobby, not interested in tempting fate.

Before he could spiral too far down that path, Sam rejoined them with Jess's promise that she would look in on Rufus during her shift that night.

It was another hour before they got to see him - and even then, only for a few minutes due to the more stringent visiting restrictions in the cardiac care unit. Dean stayed long enough to assure himself that Rufus seemed tired, but still mostly his usual irritable self, before he headed out, ceding the visiting to his brother and Bobby.

He drove to the station on auto-pilot, parked and was halfway to his desk before he remembered that he needed Rufus's files. Jody Mills looked up when he entered the small office set aside for the detectives.

"Any news?"

"Heart attack." Dean leaned against the wall, already so damn tired. "They're doing a bypass tomorrow."

Jody's face fell. "Well, shit. I was really hoping it was just that 3-alarm chili he had for lunch."

"Kinda surprised you weren't at the hospital too."

She shrugged. "Too many cooks. 'Sides, wasn't any way to keep Bobby from going and someone with a brain had to be here to keep all the knucklehead shit in check."

Dean nodded. Their squad was good - got the job done - but they did tend toward the "When the cat's away" mindset.

"Bypass is no joke."

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Doc says it's gonna be a long recovery, y'know, after ... "

Jody looked at him appraisingly. "You doing okay?"

"I'm fine!" he barked. She raised her eyebrows, waiting. He shifted restlessly. "So anyway, Bobby's gonna have me step up, so I guess we're gonna be partners now."

She waited another beat, then allowed the change of subject. "I can work with that."

He chuckled. "Nothin's official yet, but I wanna start lookin' through your cases, get up to speed."

"'Kay. I'm gonna go home to make sure the girls eat something that didn't start life in the microwave, then head over and try to badge my way in to see the ornery bastard before he goes under the knife. Don't stay too late." She stood and patted Dean's shoulder, concern still obvious in her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Dean winked and grinned.

"Just because you're the junior partner, don't start with that ma'am shit."

"Sure thing, Mills."

"Jody, if you know what's good for you. Don't make me pull out my mom voice."

"Get outta here Jody. Say hi to the girls for me."

Once she was gone, he pulled every case he could find in Rufus's active files - a hit and run, a couple of burglaries, some old open cases that the detective seemed to be reviewing. He carefully read and reread each, making his own notes. He was not going to be a liability to Jody or Bobby. They had enough on their plates as it was.

A text alert buzzed and Dean looked over, surprised at how quiet the station was. Night sky showed through the window. He blinked against the fatigue in his eyes as he grabbed the phone.

 _Ready to watch? I can't wait to find out what Dr. P will do :)_

Dean groaned. They had agreed to watch the latest Dr. Sexy together (via text) tonight.

 **sry can't watch 2nite working**

He kept typing and deleting texts explaining about Rufus, the sudden promotion, his afternoon at the cemetery, but it didn't feel right to do any of it over the phone. And he didn't want to burden Cas with all this, when they weren't even ... well, he didn't know what they were.

He put his phone down and was massaging his temples, trying to push away the impending headache when his phone rang.

"Jody was just here. You'd better not still be at the station, boy."

"Bobby..."

"Trust me, there's nothing there that won't wait till tomorrow."

Dean glanced at the photo of the young hit-and-run victim - a family photo taken the preceding Christmas and silently disagreed. "I'm heading home soon."

By the time he got off the call with Bobby, he fell right back into his reading, his phone resting quiet to the side of the desk.

* * *

Cas stared at Dean's text in consternation. He was certain they had set tonight aside to watch Dr. Sexy. He hit stop on the remote and the screen flipped back to the menu. He really didn't have any desire to watch the show without Dean.

He waited for another text, some sort of explanation, but his phone was stubbornly silent.

So what did it mean? Was Dean blowing him off - an 'innocent' lie, like Bartholomew had at the bar weeks ago? Had his schedule changed? But surely, Dean would have said something earlier. Cas wanted to believe the best, but given Dean's distance lately in general, maybe it was better to play it safe.

Dean certainly couldn't be the only person out there that Cas could connect with. Maybe Gabe and Zar were right - he just hadn't been trying hard enough. He certainly wasn't going to just sit around waiting for Dean to decide he was interested enough to address his issues.

He picked his phone back up and dialed Balthazar before he could talk himself out of it.

"Zar's House of Hedonism. What is your favorite position?" He could barely hear his friend over the chatter and music.

"It's me."

"Ah Cassie! Just a moment ... " He heard some rustling then Zar speaking away from the phone. "Darling, I'm going to need that back for a moment ... Yes well, it's attached to me you see and I have to over there to have a serious conversation."

Cas debated just hanging up, seriously doubting the wisdom of his plan. The noise level dropped suddenly and Balthazar was speaking to him again.

"So, what can I do for my favorite recluse?"

He rolled his eyes. _I'm going to regret this._

"I'm ready," he said. "You keep saying you can find someone for me - "

"What happened to Officer Hottie?"

Cas tried to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt at the thought of Dean. It wasn't as if there were any commitment between them.

"Nothing's happening. Ergo ..."

"Say no more. Let me make a call. I'll call you back in a minute. Oh! Are you free on Saturday?"

"Saturday? That's ... this Saturday?"

"Yes, this Saturday. I'm not letting you get cold feet and back out. I'd get you a date for tonight if I thought your brain wouldn't explode at the spontaneity."

Cas chewed his lip. "This is going to be a real date, right? Not just one of your - " He sought a word that wouldn't be incredibly insulting to Balthazar regarding his choice of friends.

"I guarantee that the guy I have in mind is someone I wouldn't go out with if you paid me."

"Well, that's reassuring." And it was, bizarrely.

"Wonderful! Stay by the phone, darling." And Balthazar hung up, leaving Castiel wondering again just how they'd ever become friends.

It turned out that Balthazar's friend - acquaintance - was indeed available for dinner that weekend. And so Cas found himself arriving at a fairly romantic Italian restaurant that Saturday night, nervous but hopeful - a hope that was dying as each glacially slow minute passed.

There was no spark, no immediate connection, but despite his past failures - or because of them - Castiel was not ready to write this date off. The spark could come later, couldn't it? There was nothing wrong with Inias Young, per se. He was moderately attractive, a successful banker ("That's what you do, isn't it Cassie? Numbers, right?"), and courteous in conversation, skillfully guiding the conversation through topics, searching for the one that would stimulate both their interests.

But things just didn't flow as easily as they had with Dean, and Castiel deliberately moved his thoughts away from Dean, smiling at Inias and refocusing his attention. He hadn't heard anything from Dean since he had begged off their weekly Dr. Sexy episode. Which was probably as much of a confirmation that Cas had been much more invested in their burgeoning relationship than Dean ever had been.

Inias was rising from the table. "Excuse me for a moment, Castiel," he said politely before walking in the direction of the restrooms.

 _Damn it. I have to stay focused. This isn't fair to anybody._ He picked listlessly at his chicken. _Maybe I'm just not meant to be with someone._

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out curiously, wondering if Zar was already texting crude suggestions for after the meal. Instead, it was a new text from Dean.

 _Im an uncle!1_

Underneath the text was a photo of Dean making a goofy face at a tiny infant. Beneath the silliness and joy, Cas saw traces of exhaustion and stress. Before he could think too hard on that, Inias returned, his face softening when he saw Cas. "Good news?"

"Yes actually," Cas responded, pocketing his phone. "A friend of mine just became an uncle."

"Oh. Well, good for him."

They continued eating and making light conversation. His phone buzzed several times, but Cas left it alone. He couldn't keep his mind from wandering to Dean, however - wondering what had caused the exhaustion on his face, worrying that something had gone wrong during the birth. His answers to Inias's conversational gambits grew more and more perfunctory. They both agreed that they were not interested in dessert.

Inias walked Castiel to his car. As they approached, he grabbed Castiel's hand.

"It's still early. There's no need to end the night early." Before Castiel knew what was happening, Inias leaned in and pressed their lips together softly.

Cas took a gentle step backward and sighed. "It has been a pleasant evening, Inias."

Inias's face fell. "But ..."

Cas nodded. "Yeah."

"Is it the new uncle?"

He could feel the weight of his phone in his pocket. "Apparently, I have some things to resolve."

"Well, that's disappointing, but I can't say I'm surprised that there's someone else. You seem like quite the catch, Castiel." He started to walk away then turned. "Feel free to call me, after you've gotten those things resolved."

Cas leaned against his car and watched Inias disappear into the darkness. Once he was gone, he pulled his phone out and looked at the texts that had come in while they had eaten, each separated by some number of minutes.

 _Sam took th pic says he wont take another till i sent this 2 u_

 _He's lying, Castiel. It was all his idea. (This is Sam)_

 _Stupid brother :(_

 _Cas u ok? u usually respond quicker_

 _not that yu can't have a life. Talk later. Hope ur having fun_

With a nod to himself, Cas pressed the phone icon and started a call to Dean. Just need to get everything out on the table, for good or bad.

The phone only rang once before Dean picked up. "Hey Cas." He sounded as tired as he had looked in the photo.

"Hello, Dean. I was wondering if you would be willing to meet up. And I just realized that this is probably not a good time. You're spending time with your nephew. I'm sorry to interrupt. Maybe later this week?"

Dean chuckled. "You gonna give me a chance to actually answer? Or is this a conversation you'd like to have entirely on your own? Cause I'm good either way, but I'd really like to see you."

"But the baby?"

"It's all good, man. I'm giving Sam and Jess some family time with the kid, seeing as they're the, y'know, parents."

"Now?"

"I ain't got anywhere else to be for once. Where d'ya wanna meet?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Unknown Number**  
 **Chapter 7**  
 _see Chapter 1 for Notes_  
also: Incoming Texts are _Italics_ ; Outgoing are **Bold**

* * *

Cas had suggested meeting at The Roadhouse, but they had ultimately agreed on Dean's suggestion of a little dive bar not far from the hospital. The food wasn't as good, but it was close and there was less chance of being intercepted by people wanting updates on Rufus or the new baby.

Dean arrived first and grabbed a booth toward the back. The past week had seen Dean falling into bed each night, looking longingly at his phone, but just too tired to call Cas. And then Cas called out of the blue and wanted to talk; Dean wasn't passing up the chance to see him no matter how exhausted he was, so he sipped a coffee and kept half an eye on the door as he waited.

The door opened and Dean looked up. His coffee cup paused halfway to his mouth as he took in the mouth-watering sight of Cas in a very nicely fitted suit. He gave Dean a half smile as he sat down across from him.

"Damn, Cas, you clean up good. What's the occasion?"

Cas looked down at himself as if he had forgotten what he was wearing. "Oh, I was on a date earlier this evening."

Dean swallowed his disappointment. A date. Well, didn't that just figure. And there Dean was texting (and probably annoying) Cas all through it. No wonder he wanted to talk, probably wanted to tell Dean to get lost.

"Man, I'm so sorry. I didn't know..."

Cas scrunched his face. "Sorry for what?"

"The crazy text barrage. Sam and I were just ... kinda punchy and blowing off some steam, but that's no reason to interrupt your night."

Cas didn't look particularly angry. In fact, if pressed, Dean would say he looked fond, albeit hidden under a heavy layer of reserve. "It was not an unwelcome interruption, Dean. I was very happy to hear from you, actually, which is, I suppose, why I asked to meet."

Point in the good column: Cas was happy to hear from him. Negative: he looked way too serious - that was an "We need to talk" face. Not to mention: date. Dressy, formal date that probably didn't involve dive bars or Dr. Sexy. Dean took a deep breath.

"Well, here we are."

"Dean, I've been ... well, confused lately, unsure where we stand with each other. Which is why I asked my friend to set me up on a date, thinking maybe you've sent me some social cue I didn't pick up on and I should just move on." Cas hesitated, as if he were going to keep speaking, then shrugged and stayed silent.

 _Holy shit, no! No moving on!_

"Hi! I'm Kim and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you fellas?"

Dean ordered by rote - a refill on his coffee and a burger; he hadn't eaten anything other than hospital cafeteria food all day. Cas just had a decaf coffee, citing his recent meal.

Their server poured their coffees and left with a smile and a flirtatious wink that both men ignored. Dean reached across the table, but stopped short of actually touching Cas's hand.

"I haven't been sending out signals, Cas. I was really, really ... hoping you weren't moving on."

"Oh ... kay," Cas said slowly, tilting his head slightly as he stared at Dean. "Then why have you been ignoring me?"

"I haven't," he protested automatically. Cas had been in his thoughts almost constantly since that morning at the cemetery.

"We haven't spoken since Tuesday night when you were suddenly too busy to watch Dr. Sexy. I know I have no claim on your time and we are just friends, but I thought ..." he trailed off, his eyes fixed on the booth behind Dean.

Dean sighed. "Well, when you put it that way." Crap, it musta looked so bad to Cas.

"It wasn't like that, Cas. I know I was kind of distant for a while there, but I was doing a lot of thinking. Then earlier this week, I decided I wanted to go ahead and try things with you, but then just so much stuff happened - nothing to do with you, or you and me - I guess I just ... had to shift focus."

"Things you couldn't tell me?"

"Well, things that I wasn't sure I should ... I mean, I didn't know what we were to each other - don't know, really, I guess - and, well, anyone who knows me will tell you I'm shit at communicating. I didn't want to just dump all this shit on you before even going on a successful date."

Cas raised a brow, and Dean flushed a bit at the memory of the kiss they had shared at the end of their one official date.

"Y'know, a date that doesn't end with me running away at the end."

Kim brought out Dean's burger and he took a huge bite, looking to buy some time, hoping Cas would say something. But he just sat there, studying Dean silently.

"But yeah, in retrospect, I guess I didn't really tell you any of that. I really fucked things up, huh?"

Cas shrugged. "Not irrevocably."

"Yeah?" Dean felt a warm flare of hope.

Cas smiled and nodded.

"Why don't we start here? Tell me about your week."

Dean nodded. "My week. Yeah, man, okay. But I'm seriously gonna need some pie for this."

They ordered pie. He spoke and Cas listened. Cas listened maybe too well - Dean ended up saying a lot he hadn't intended to as they split an above average piece of peach pie (not quite up to Ellen's standard, but still pretty damn good). He kind of glossed over the cemetery revelations, but a lot came out about his fears about stepping into Rufus's shoes.

As Dean wrapped up his story, Cas was wide-eyed. "That is quite a lot to have happen. I almost feel bad that it didn't occur to me that you were going through something." He leaned forward. "I wish I could have been more of a friend to you through this."

"It's not .. " Dean started.

"Regardless, I'd like to say something." He took Dean's hand in his, laughing dryly. "Gabriel would tell me not to say this, but we have apparently a terrible time communicating so ... I like you, Dean. You're smart and funny and brave and I would really like to get to know all the parts of you that are hidden away, because I have a feeling I've barely scratched the surface. If I heard you right, you are also interested in that?"

Dean blew out a breath. "Wow, just putting it right out there, huh, Cas?"

Cas shrugged. "I think we both know I'm terrible at social subtleties and emotional games. I almost made a terrible choice because I misunderstood -"

"I'm in."

* * *

I'm in.

Two little words that had changed Castiel's whole outlook. Two little words that had led almost immediately to an amazingingly hot makeout session in the backseat of Dean's Impala.

It definitely was better than their last attempt. The backseat was a little cramped for two full-grown men, but Dean had parked in a far corner and it was private enough for some serious necking. And when they hit Dean's limit, instead of running away, he simply pulled back with a regretful smile, stammering apologies until Cas quieted him with a chaste kiss.

"I'm in no rush, Dean. Being physically intimate with you is just one part of what I'm looking for. We can move at your speed."

Dean groaned and leaned into Cas. "I don't wanna go slow .. .But I do at the same time."

"Then we'll err on the side of caution. And anticipation," he added with a smirk.

"Man, this is gonna be ..." He shifted restlessly on the seat, finally giving up and physically adjusting himself. Cas tried not to stare.

"I was gonna say, 'It's gonna be hard,' but that's a little on the nose."

Cas laughed. "And on that note, I think maybe we should say good night." He reached for the door handle, anxious to remove himself from temptation before they convinced themselves to do something Dean wasn't truly comfortable with.

Dean stepped out the other door and met Cas behind the car, leaning casually against the trunk. "So, yeah, thanks, y'know for listening to me, giving me a second chance. Or is it my third?"

"I'm not keeping count, Dean. What matters is what happens from here on."

"Yeah." Dean pulled a face. "I can't promise I'm not gonna screw up or close you out again. Just, y'know, call me on it, 'kay? I'm not used to figuring someone else into my plans anymore. I get kinda lost in my own head."

"I will absolutely 'call you on it.'" Cas threw the air quotes in just to get that laugh from Dean. "For what it's worth, I'm very glad I decided to meet with you tonight."

"Yeah, god, me too. well, I'm gonna ..." he gestured to the front seat.

Cas clasped his hand briefly. "Good night, Dean. I'll talk to you soon."

He watch Dean pull easily out of the parking lot as he headed to his own car and his own home to take care of his own 'hard' problem. Somehow the near certainty that Dean would be doing the same thing made it a little more exciting.

Cas checked his phone when he returned from his jog the next morning to find a text from Dean.

 _Have to head into office couple hrs. Catch up dr. sxy 2nite?_

 **Sounds good. My only plans are lunch with friends. Phone date? Or would you like to come over?**

Cas went ahead with the rest of his morning routine, figuring that Dean would answer when work allowed. His phone buzzed just as he arrived at the restaurant and had spied Balthazar and Gabriel.

 _Wel if u think we can control ourselves I'd love to see ur place_

 _Maybe continue last night a bit?_

 _damit need a sexy wink emoji_

Cas typed his reply quickly before heading to the table.

 **I will be a paragon of virtue. My address is 1234 Celestial Ave Apt 710**

He pocketed the phone and walked to where Balthazar and Gabriel were seated. Balthazar have him a pointed look as he sat down.

"What?" he asked.

"I spoke with Inias this morning. He told me that he really liked you, that you had a very nice date ... and that you just disappeared."

"I didn't disappear, Balthazar. I do appreciate your arranging the date and it was quite pleasant, but Inias ..."

"What?"

"He's ... We just didn't mesh. He's a little ... dull."

Balthazar and Gabe exchanged a glance. "Honestly, Cas, we thought he'd be a good fit."

"Really? That's how you see me?"

"Don't get us wrong, Cassie, we love you. Just figured maybe you should stay in your weight class rather than trying to dream the impossible Dean." Gabriel's self-satisfied chortles died off when he looked at Cas's reaction. "Wait ..."

"Not so impossible," Cas responded shortly, still a little miffed at the implication that he wasn't exciting enough for someone like Dean. He would just ignore the voice inside his head that kind of agreed with them.

"Do tell."

"I saw him last night ... after I said a proper and considerate goodbye to Inias," he asserted.

Balthazar stared, wide-eyed. "Castiel. You .. I ... Two dates in one ... " He opened and closed his mouth a couple more times, then shook his head abruptly.

"I am speechless. I am ... I am flabbergasted. Completely. I really am."

"Then would you just shut up you British twit," Gabriel interjected. "I want to hear this."

He waved off the server approaching their table, leaned forward eagerly and added, "I want all the salacious details."

"There are no 'salacious details,' Gabriel. We just met for coffee and talked ... for a while." He felt the heat in his cheeks a split second before Gabriel crowed smugly.

"No details, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Something happened."

"Nothing that's any of your business, Gabriel." He looked to Balthazar in the sure-to-be-vain search for support and found him looking rather sour.

"I'm sorry things didn't work with your friend, Zar, but I thought you'd be happy for me."

"I want to be, Castiel, I really do. But are you sure about this Dean character? I mean, you've only known him for a matter of months, and already he's got a pretty spotty track record."

Cas sighed. "You're right, of course. But when we spoke last night, he was very forthcoming and apologetic. Several major changes happened almost simultaneously and he was overwhelmed. He didn't want to burden me before we got serious, but didn't realize he just wasn't communicating at all."

"Care to be a little more vague, Cassie? Or is it that Dean just painted you a blurry watercolor?"

"No, Gabe, that's me respecting his privacy. He told me the specifics. And before you ask, yes I could check on any one of them. Not that I feel the need to."

"That's all well and good, Castiel," Balthazar broke in, "but I worry. This doesn't sound like it's just a fling. You sound ... invested already."

Gabriel sighed. "The Z man is right, Cassie. Even if this Dean guy is being straight with you," Balthazar and Cas both rolled their eyes as Gabe twittered, "it sounds like he's got a lot going on. Are you sure he's looking for the same thing you are?"

Cas glared at them both. The server took that moment of silence to dive in and get their lunch orders. After he left, Cas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He reminded himself that these were his friends, that they had his best interests at heart.

"I appreciate you both looking out for me, but I like Dean and I am going to give this a try and see where it goes."

"We just don't want to see you get hurt."

Cas nodded. "I don't want that either. But I think he's worth the chance."

Cas typically used his morning runs to reflect, let his mind wander wherever it needed to go, to get his head right for the coming day. Thoughts of Dean had been increasingly predominant during this quiet time over the past few weeks since they'd begun dating. His smile, his kisses (which Cas had to avoid thinking about too much while running for fear he'd trip over something), the texts and phone calls they'd shared. They'd only seen each other a couple of times, Dean's schedule still not quite down to a normal routine, and they were still taking the physical side of things slow - nothing more than cuddling on the couch or some (kind of intense) making out. Nothing much had truly changed, but everything felt different somehow.

Cas slowed his run down to a brisk jog as he approached the narrow entrance to the parking lot. He looked at his watch - if he hurried, he could probably pick up some coffee and swing by Dean's before he left for the station. He'd gotten more than a few whiny texts the day before after Dean's coffee maker had broken, and he'd had to survive the day only in the stuff available in the station break room.

He rounded a curve in the path only to find someone blocking the gate to the parking lot. A dark-haired man was lunged across the width of the path, stretching, and didn't seem to notice Cas as he approached. He cleared his throat as he jogged in place. "Excuse me."

The man jumped, startled, and looked at Cas, and then back at the gate he was blocking. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I got a cramp, was just trying to stretch it out. Let me get out of your way."

"It's no problem." Cas tried to ignore the way the man was not-so-subtly staring at him as he straightened up. The man fell into step with Cas as he continued on.

"I've seen you around a couple of times," he commented with a charming smile. "You run here a lot of mornings, don't you?"

Cas nodded and stopped jogging by his car. He easily sank into a few stretches. He looked at the man who had stopped as well: tall, dark-haired, friendly, open face - quite attractive, really, but still nothing compared to Dean.

"Truth be told, I'm actually kind of glad I was in your way."

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah, I've been trying to work up the courage to talk to you."

"Oh, umm... " He was staring, he knew it, but he just couldn't place him at all. And did he mean talk or 'talk?'

The stranger blushed slightly. "Well, ask you out, really."

"I'm sorry, umm... " He didn't even know this guy's name!

"Oh, sorry! I'm Mike."

They shook hands as Cas said, "I'm Cas, and I'm actually involved with someone."

Mike winced. "Well, can't blame a guy for trying. Maybe I'll see you around anyway? I just moved to the area and would really love a running buddy."

Cas smiled and dug his key out of his pocket. "Well, like you said, I'm here most mornings."

He felt a faint tingle of pride all the way to the coffee shop and then to Dean's. it wasn't that he'd gotten hit on (although that was an unusual event); it was the thrill he'd gotten at saying he was taken. He was still grinning as he pulled into the parking lot just as Dean was heading out the front door of the apartment building. Dean gave him a curious look as he pulled to a stop behind the Impala.

The curiosity gave way to gratitude when Cas got out and held up the large to go cup of coffee.

"Oh man, Cas, you are a lifesaver! I seriously don't know how I was gonna get through today without a decent coffee. I was going to leave earlier and try to stop, but I was up at 3 this morning trying to convince Sam that he's not going to be the worst father ever. Sleep won out over taste. But with you," he leaned in and kissed Cas lightly, "I don't even have to choose."

Cas tried not to lean into the kiss too deeply, given that Dean was dressed for work and he was still in his sweaty running clothes. They leaned against the Impala as Dean moaned over his first sip.

"So, something funny happened on my run this morning," Cas offered once he was sure Dean's attention wasn't entirely on the coffee.

He looked over sharply, all his attention on Cas. "Yeah? Funny how?"

"Oh, not funny strange or bad. Just... different."

Dean grimaced. "Sorry. Cop," he pointed to his chest. "Hazard of the job. So, what happened?"

Cas felt kind of weird bringing it up now, especially to Dean, unsure how he would see the situation. "I ... uh... someone was hitting on me. This guy at the end of my run ..."

Dean choked on the sip he'd just taken. Cas stepped forward, concerned, but Dean waved him off. Finally, he took a deep breath and gave Cas a brittle smile. "Wow, yeah, okay. Well that's - I mean we never... y, you can - "

"I told him I was seeing someone."

Dean sighed heavily. "Awesome. 'Cause that was me kinda just _pretending_ to be cool about it."

Cas stared at him. "Well, then, I really hope you never have to go undercover, because even I could tell you weren't 'cool' with it."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, UC's not really in my job description. Plus, y'know, probably not gonna have a lotta relationship conversations in that type of situation. At least not ones that I really care about."

Cas looked down and then back up. "So we're exclusive?" A warm, giddy feeling spread through his chest as Dean nodded.

"I'd like that if you're good with it. I mean, I'm not the one having to turn down dates right now."

He dove in and shut Dean up, kissing his boyfriend for all he was worth - until Dean's phone went off, and they reluctantly broke the kiss to head off to face the day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Unknown Number**  
 **Chapter 8**  
 _see Chapter 1 for Notes_  
also: Incoming Texts are _Italics_ ; Outgoing are **Bold**

* * *

Dean spotted Cas the moment he walked through the door. He was already seated at a small table romantically situated beside the restaurant's front window, giving them a picturesque view of the old-towne shopping district lit by the setting sun. He trailed a hand across Cas's shoulders as he approached. "Sorry I'm late," he said, sliding into his seat opposite Cas. "Got stuck doing all the paperwork for our latest case. Again. Jody's big on the perks of seniority," he added with a groan.

"That's all right. I haven't been here long," Cas answered with a smile.

Dean returned the smile absently as he scanned the crowd of evening shoppers outside, searching for anyone out of place, anyone who might be triggering this feeling of being watched. He didn't see anyone - just like every time he'd looked over the past couple of weeks. He was just stretched too thin and his instincts were going haywire, seeing ghosts around every corner. Drawing his attention back to his date, he found Cas looking at him worriedly.

"You look tired. Still," he added pointedly.

Cas had been concerned at Dean's fatigue when they'd last seen each other almost a week ago and had made Dean promise to get some rest. But between the new job, helping out with the new baby Winchester, taking his turn in the visiting rotation for Rufus, and making time for Cas, there just weren't enough hours in the day. Everything would smooth out soon enough, he kept telling himself ... especially once he got rid of the persistent feeling of wrongness.

He took a deep breath and tried to shake off the tension of the day (or the week or the month; he'd lost track at this point). He surveyed the restaurant: a cozy, warm place, flowers on the tables, cloth napkins. Not really a place he would've picked on his own, but with Cas, yeah, it felt right.

"Nice place."

Cas beamed. "And I think you'll find the food excellent."

"It certainly is," asserted their server enthusiastically, setting down the two beers that Cas must have ordered before he arrived. "Any questions before you order?"

They each ordered the signature burger and Dean took a big gulp of his beer, setting it down gratefully. "Thanks for that, Cas. So, how was your day? What's new and exciting in the world of accounting?"

"Nothing much, as usual," Cas answered dryly, then added, "Oh, except I saw that guy, Mike, again. He was asking for some tax advice this morning. Apparently, he just moved here from another state and wants to figure out what he needs to get ready before tax time."

"Mike," Dean repeated slowly, trying to place the name. "Oh, you told me about him a couple weeks ago, right? The running guy?"

"Yes, him. We've run together a few mornings since. Must've mentioned I was an accountant and ... what?" Dean was trying to smother his chuckle, but couldn't.

"I think someone has a little crush on you."

"No, he's just new in town and doesn't know a lot of people." Cas shook his head.

"Mmhmmm, sure." Dean grinned at Cas's adorably befuddled expression.

"I was absolutely clear that I am unavailable, and I'm sure I've mentioned you almost every time we've spoken."

Dean laughed. "I know you aren't leading him on, babe. At least not beyond being your natural, irresistible self."

Cas blushed and looked up in relief as their server brought their salads. Dean considered tormenting Cas some more about his running buddy's crush but decided against it. The past few weeks with Cas had been awesome. More than awesome. They had breezed through the getting to know you stage and were well into comfortable camaraderie. But Cas had been so concerned to not pressure Dean physically that they had barely moved beyond making out on the couch. It was sweet of him, but Dean was tired of going home frustrated at the end of the night. And, when he really thought about it, that background sense that he was cheating on Victor, that he was getting something he didn't deserve, had been fading, little by little.

He wanted Cas. He deserved Cas.

And he was hoping that this night, Cas would go home with him.

Too much teasing, or talk of other guys, might derail that plan before Dean ever got the question out. So he sat back and enjoyed the meal and shared highlights of his day; granted, it was mostly paperwork-related, but Cas was an accountant so Dean figured he could relate.

Their conversation was engaging and fun, and without meaning to, they wound up closing down the restaurant. With an apologetic smile to their server (and a very healthy tip), they made their way hand in hand to the parking lot. Dean automatically scanned the few remaining cars, again looking for anything out of place. Again, nothing was wrong. Because, again, why would there be? All the same, he turned to Cas.

"You haven't noticed anyone weird hanging around, right?"

"Weird?" Cas repeated.

"Just anything that puts you on alert, makes you uncomfortable? I don't know, I just can't shake this feeling ..."

Cas stood there, shaking his head and looking a little lost. And it wasn't as if the feeling of being watched was related to Cas; no, Dean was looking over his shoulder almost all day long.

"It's probably nothing. Just ... do me a favor and be careful, okay?"

Cas nodded seriously. "Of course I will, Dean." He threaded their fingers together as they walked to their cars. He breathed in the cool night air and squeezed Dean's hand. "So, I guess -"

"Ya wanna come back to my place?" Dean caught Cas's eyes for a second then bounced his gaze everywhere but. He finally looked back at Cas to find him looking back thoughtfully, one part cautious, one part hopeful.

"I'd love to, Dean. ... To maybe watch a movie or continue our conversation?" he questioned.

Dean kicked at the dirt and blew out a sigh, annoyed that this was so hard. "To stay the night, Cas. With me. You and me. Together. In my-"

He was never so grateful for Cas's lips on his as when they stopped his rambling travesty of a seduction. When Cas pulled back, they were both panting heavily and Dean was already uncomfortably hard in his pants.

"Please, tell me that's a yes," he whispered against Cas's breath.

"Yes."

"Oh thank god. So ... you want me to ride you," he shook his head. "Want to ride _with_ you or I drive or ... God damn it."

Cas chuckled. "Get in your car and go home. I'll meet you there."

* * *

Dean raced into his apartment and did a quick scan for anything embarrassing laying around. Thankfully, he hadn't been home enough in the past few days to make a mess. He wasn't sure how much time he had before Cas showed up - a cold wave hit his stomach, what if he wasn't coming? What if he had just taken the easiest way to let Dean down without making a public scene? He shook the thought off as he quickly pulled the sheets off the bed, stuffing them in the hamper, and threw on a fresh set. He really should have done this earlier, but it had felt like he'd be jinxing things. Besides the old sheets weren't really that old; they would have been just fine. Crap, it was so obvious these hadn't been slept in - would Cas think it was courteous or weird? He couldn't remember the protocol and stood there, stalled, looking between the hamper and the bed. Just as he was about to pull the old sheets out again, he heard a knocking at the front door.

He heaved a sigh as he gave the pristinely made bed one last baleful look, muttering, "Didn't this used to be easier?" and walked to the door to find Cas standing there, his cheeks flushed from the evening chill, a plastic convenience store bag hanging from his arm.

"Supplies," he explained, shaking the bag as he stepped around where Dean stood frozen in the doorway. And yes, of course they'd need condoms. Lube, he had plenty of that, but he hadn't really needed protection for a while. This was his freakin' plan and he hadn't even thought about it. He mentally kicked himself. _Two for two, Winchester._

He shut the door, trying to ignore the way his hand was shaking. When he turned around, Cas was watching him with a concerned frown.

"Dean, is this still alright? It's fine if you've changed your mind."

Hell, no. No way was he walking away from this over a case of nerves. Dean cleared his throat and stepped closer to Cas. He shook his head definitively. "Haven't changed my mind."

He slid his lips along Cas's jaw and nuzzled the sensitive spot beneath his ear, relishing the shiver that ran through Cas, the warm breath gusting against his cheek. "It's just been a while," he murmured. "Might be out of practice."

Cas pivoted to capture Dean's lips in a deep kiss. Within seconds, Dean realized that Cas, whose kissing had been consistently in the top five of Dean's experience, had actually been holding back all this time. This was Cas kissing with intent. Warm tingles racing from his lips and tongue to every cell of his being, his thoughts blanked, and all he could do was hold on for the ride. Too soon, Cas gentled the kiss and pulled back, now flushed in a very different way, his pupils blown wide as he licked his lips.

"From everything I've seen, Dean, you haven't forgotten anything." He tugged Dean's shirt out from under his belt. "But I'm more than willing to filling in any blanks."

Dean nodded frantically, breath knocked out of him as Cas's fingers trailed up his sides, found his nipples and stroked teasingly, all while he stepped into Dean, crowding him backward till his back hit the wall. Cas pressed into him - lips, chest, hips holding him in place (as if he would want to be anywhere else), the tantalizing line of his erection hard against Dean's thigh.

His mouth and hands were everywhere, filing Dean with sensations he hadn't felt in years - his skin was on fire, his cock pulsing hard, fighting the tight confines of his jeans. He slid his hands up the back of Cas's shirt, pulling him in closer, palms braced against warm skin, feeling the little twists and turns of his torso as they moved together. He groaned as Cas slowly worried and sucked at the skin at the base of his neck, and if they didn't take a break pretty much immediately, Dean was sure he was gonna come before they even got away from the front door. But he was hard-pressed to recognize why that would be a bad thing.

"Cas," he gasped.

"Hmmm?" he hummed against Dean's neck, sliding Dean's shirt from his shoulders (and when had it even gotten unbuttoned?) Cas ducked down to flick his tongue over a nippple, his hips rolling inexorably into Dean, hard, steady, focused.

"Oh fuck!" Dean's hips jerked, he arched his back, pressing his chest toward Cas's mouth and came with a sudden, harsh groan. He vaguely registered Cas stiffening in his arms, short gasps lengthening into one long moan until he finally slumped forward, resting his head on Dean's shoulder.

"Can't stand up anymore, " Dean whispered as he gave up fighting his shaking legs and slid down the wall, Cas following, twisting so that they were sitting essentially side by side in the entrance, their legs stretched across the floor, tangled together.

"That was ... oh my god," Dean breathed, leaning into Cas.

Cas slipped an arm between Dean's shoulders and the wall, holding him gently, in some crazy, seated afterglow cuddling.

"I really meant for us to make it to the bed. But you just ... We didn't even use your supplies," Dean laughed.

He trailed his fingers tantalizing down Dean's arm. "You think we're done for the night?"

Dean shivered at the promise in his voice. "Holy fuck. What happened to my mild-mannered accountant?"

Cas chuckled, the sound low and dirty, and Dean's dick tried to everything was good to go for Round Two.

"Is that one of your kinks, Dean? Want me to pull out my reading glasses and do you all shy and slow and methodical?"

Dean sputtered, tried to breathe normally. That wasn't a kink of his - at least it hadn't been until just now. "Uhhh... no, I don't think ... just a ... um... surprise. A good, very very good, surprise."

"I've been waiting a long time for this, sweetheart. And I'm not a saint - it's not like it didn't affect me. But maybe after another time or two, we'll get around to slow and quiet."

Dean shivered. "Okay. Well, then, umm... let's head to the bedroom."

They got to their feet and Cas grimaced, shifting. "Also, can I borrow some pants for the morning?"

With a laugh, Dean led Cas into the apartment. "As you wish."

* * *

 _hey babe. sam ditched me 4 work. whatcha up2 tonite_

 **I am going out with Zar, Gabe & Kali. There's a new club they want to try.**

 _thought u hated goin out with them?_

 **It might not be so bad now that they won't be constantly trying to set me up with someone. ;p**

 _well then have fun!_

 **You could join us?**

 _dont wanna cramp ur style haha_

 _no seriously just want a quiet night in. maybe come by after?_

 **if it's not too late. Have a good night.**

"Cassie, tell LoverBoy bye bye already and come on!"

He looked up at the sound of Balthazar's voice, surprised to find they had arrived and parked and the others were standing outside the car, waiting for him with looks ranging from a knowing fondness to exasperation. He slid out of the car and shoved his phone in his pocket.

Gabe hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him toward the entrance. "All right. Let's par-tay!"

Balthazar scampered off as soon as they entered, drawn away by some pretty thing, likely along with promises of plenty of alcohol. Gabe and Kali kept Cas company for a while, talking and joking around until the energy of the club picked up, and Kali pulled her husband out onto the dance floor. Cas stayed near the bar, content to people watch.

A presence at his side made him look over. Mike stood next to him, a wide smile on his face.

"Hey, Castiel! Funny running into you here." He stood barely a foot away from Cas. The bar area had become crowded enough that Cas couldn't take a step back.

"Hello."

"Is Dean here tonight? Are you celebrating something?"

"No," Cas answered, feeling oddly reluctant to share personal information. "I'm out with friends." Mike looked around, pointedly, at the mass of people all of whom were obviously not with Cas. "They had to step away for a moment," Cas felt the need to explain.

"Well, let me buy you a drink and keep you company until they get back."

"That's not necesse-" Cas began but Mike had already turned to get the bartender's attention. Their drinks were ready almost instantly and he grabbed them, holding one out to Cas with a grin. Before he could decide whether or not to take it - or analyze why he really, _really_ didn't want to - Gabe was tugging at his shoulder.

"Cas, man, you gotta help me settle this argument with Kali. We need a neutral third party before it turns into WW3." Without acknowledging, or even noticing Mike, he pulled Cas over to where Kali stood, looking annoyed, and Cas braced himself to once again mediate for the volatile couple.

Fortunately, their disagreement was easily resolved; truthfully, Gabe walking away for a couple of minutes was probably more helpful than Cas's presence. The three chatted for a while before Kali and Gabe made their way out onto the floor for the club dance version of make-up sex.

Cas settled in a shadowed corner of the club and smiled as he watched them, glad someone was enjoying themselves. The encounter with Mike had left him more rattled than he could account for - and for more cause than simply that he would have to admit to Dean that he was probably right that Mike was interested in him. Somehow, it felt like something more ... ominous. _Which is just ridiculous, Castiel_ , he growled at himself.

He looked around uneasily; Mike was nowhere in sight. Even then, the vague sense of foreboding didn't entirely disappear. With a grimace, he realized that he would have to find a new jogging route and hope that Mike would just leave well enough alone.

Feeling unsettled and a little bored, he pulled out his phone to text Dean.

 **I'm bored.**

It only took a minute for Dean to see the message and answer.

 _Why don't u come over. I'd liek to be bored haha_

Cas rolled his eyes, thankful that Dean couldn't see his grin.

 **God your humor is atrocious.**

 **I'll be there in half an hour.**

He scanned the club quickly, looking for his friends, but couldn't see any of them. The bartender from earlier approached just as he was about to call Gabe and leave a message that he was calling it a night.

"Are you Castiel Novak?" she shouted over the music.

He nodded.

"One of your friends is out back. He looks in a bad way, man. He's asking for you."

Cas thanked her and hurried in the direction she had pointed, past the bathrooms to find an emergency door propped open, presumably so that people could go smoke and easily reenter the club.

Kali was with Gabe (wherever they were), so it must be Balthazar. His enthusiasm for partying had gotten him into trouble more than once. He could hear someone moving out in the alley, then the sound of retching.

"Damn it, Zar, what the hell did you take this time?" he muttered to himself as he stepped outside. The alley was cluttered with old pallets and cardboard boxes stacked in haphazard piles. The only light came from the open doorway behind him. A shuffling sound came from Cas's right.

"Zar? Is that you?" he called out, heading toward the noise. Only a few steps beyond the doorway, he sensed someone behind him. Before he could turn around, arms snaked around his chest and neck, pulling him tight against his assailant.

He struggled to breathe, twisted, strained to pull away from the forearm against his windpipe, but he couldn't move. There was a sharp pain in his neck and within seconds all tension drained from his muscles. He slumped, held up only by the vice grip of the arms around him. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he heard someone else approach; he tried to speak, only able to form a quiet moan. His arms were lifted around shoulders - someone was on either side of him - and they half carried, half dragged him down the alley toward the street, his feet tripping each other as he tried to pace them.

"Hey, is your friend okay?" That was a woman's voice. Cas didn't think he recognized it, but the fog she was speaking through made it difficult to be sure.

"Oh yeah, our buddy just had a little too much," answered a male voice from his right. Maybe that one was familiar. Was it Zar and Gabe carrying him? It couldn't be, he knew, but he couldn't remember why.

He tried to lift his head up, but it was so heavy.

"Do you need any help?" She sounded concerned.

"Cll Deeee," Cas's tongue felt too thick for his mouth as forced the words out. He tried again "Deeee... Wnch-"

"Nah, we're good. Our car's just over there. But we want to get him home before he pukes again."

"Well, good luck."

He tried to pull away, tried to shout, but nothing. Some moments later, he was shoved forward, face-planting onto something cold and hard. He could feel faint vibrations under his cheek. A car? A truck? Vehicle meant they were moving him. Taking him somewhere. Away.

He rolled painfully against something sharp and hard as the vehicle accelerated around a corner. His phone vibrated in his pocket as he slipped into unconsciousness with one last thought. Dean would find him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Unknown Number**  
 **Chapter 9**  
 _CW: canon-typical violence incoming  
see Chapter 1 for more Notes_  
also: Incoming Texts are _Italics_ ; Outgoing are **Bold**

* * *

Everything was swirling sickeningly and, for a moment, Cas wished he was still sleeping through what had to be the worst hangover ever. The voices that had been hovering at the edge of his consciousness for a while became sharper, clearer ... and as the memories came back, he wished it was a hangover. Because reality ...

"... not smart going after a cop."

He wondered how long it had been and whether anyone knew he was missing.

"No other choice man. We're running out of time. He's the last one."

He wondered if Dean was looking for him yet.

"Thought we were gonna grab the brother."

"Too hard to get to him. Fucker lives half his life at the courthouse. Besides this is much more poetic, don't you think? New one for the old."

The sudden absence of sound and the slight lessening of the dizzying circles dancing in his brain let Cas know that he was still in the truck or van they had thrown him into. And now they had stopped. Doors opened and closed in the front. He tried to sit up, tried to open his eyes, prepare to make a run for it, but before he made any progress, the rear doors opened with a crash and hands were grabbing at him, pulling him roughly to near standing. They dragged him forward, up some stairs, scraping his shins and ankles against concrete. It was so cold. Their steps echoed starkly from all directions.

He was pushed into chair and ropes wound around him - holding him up more than preventing escape, he thought semi-hysterically.

The footsteps faded into silence, then reappeared, louder, echoes overlapping.

"This him?"

"Yeah."

He opened his eyes enough to make out three figures before the effort was too much. One of them dug through his pockets. He grunted in protest.

"All right, then. Wake him up a bit. Time to make the call."

* * *

Thirty minutes had come and gone. Dean stared at his two unanswered texts to Cas.

 **b safe k**

 **u need a ride?**

Cas hadn't driven, so he wasn't ignoring his phone for safety. Unless one of the others had too much and needed a ride home first. But Cas would've told him if he'd be later, wouldn't he?

He dialed Cas's number. It rang through to voicemail.

He paced his living room, circling the perimeter twice, his footsteps loud, even on the carpet, in the middle of the night stillness. He looked at his phone again.

No change.

The clock informed him it was now 42 minutes since he'd heard from Cas. He didn't want to be a possessive, overprotective dick of a boyfriend. But every instinct he had said something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

"Fuck it," he growled as he started searching for Balthazar's number. He startled as his phone lit up and vibrated in his hand. Seeing Cas's ID pop up, he breathed a sigh of relief as he answered.

"Cas, man, you had me worried."

"Detective Dean Winchester." The voice was cold and steady and definitely not one Dean had ever heard before.

His blood chilled.

"Where's Cas?"

"Just a moment."

"Dean? Issat you?" Cas's voice was unsteady, slurred.

"Cas? Where are you?" Labored breathing was the only answer. "What's going on? Talk to me!"

"Now, now, Dean, you know that's not how this is going to work."

"Who are you?" He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen out of the junk drawer to make notes.

"I am the person who will decide whether you get to see your new boyfriend again."

"Okay. So what do I do to make that happen?"

The voice laughed delightedly. "And they told me you'd be difficult. I'm glad to hear you're so cooperative. To even have a chance at seeing this tasty morsel again, you just have to do one very simple thing: tell me where I can find Victor Henriksen."

The pen fell from Dean's fingers. "Victor?" he asked numbly. "He's dead."

"Now we both know that's not true. Where is Henriksen?"

"At Lakewood Cemetary, jackass - look down about six feet. What kind of psycho are you?"

An agonized cry from Cas had Dean on his feet. "Leave him alone! I answered your question."

A sharp tsking sound carried through the phone. "I don't want the party line, Dean. You are in control here. I'll give you some time to think it over: Henriksen or Novak?"

"What are you ... Listen, man -" he stammered.

"Oh and Dean? This is just between us. Don't go opening a missing persons file, or involving any of your coworkers. Or your brother."

"Sam? What do you -"

"I know everything, Dean. And I promise, I can rain hell down on you and your family with one phone call.

"I want Henriksen. You must be able to contact him, so ... do what you need to do. I'll be in touch."

Dean put down the phone, his hip against the couch the only thing keeping him upright. He was numb, completely cut off from everything surrounding him. Cas's cry echoed in his ears, surging with each heartbeat. What the hell had they done to him?

His fingers curled into fists.

He had to get him - but where did he start? Hell, he didn't even know what club they had gone to. No clue where to even start looking. Fuck, fuck!

 _Can't call Gabe. He'll freak out, no chance to keep this under wraps._ He moved around the apartment on autopilot. Gun, shoes, wallet, phone, badge. Coat.

Images flashed through his mind at lightning speed: Cas, injured, scared, alone; Victor, laughing, smiling; Victor's gravestone; Cas's smile, his hands, his scent; Victor's funeral.

His funeral, for fuck's sake!

Victor was dead and now some crazy fuck had Cas and wasn't going to let him go without ...

Victor was dead.

He'd watched them bury him, lower the coffin into the ground, Vic's sister weeping quietly at his side.

He'd seen them lower the coffin, yes, but he never saw the body. Too much damage from the blast, they had been told.

"Fuck!" He slammed his fist into the wall, riding the pain for a moment. Was this psycho making him doubt Victor's death? It made no sense - why would they lie? The FBI, the coroner, the mortuary ... If it was for a case, wouldn't Vic have told him?

No, this was just the rantings of someone desperately in need of psychiatric treatment.

It had to be.

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. He had to know. If he could get proof that Victor was really dead, maybe this psycho would Cas go ... Maybe.

He wasn't ready to consider any other option.

* * *

Dean's voice had started to break through the fog in his mind; the punch had finished the job. He could hear Dean's shouts through the tiny speaker - his phone, that must have been what they dug out of his pockets. Still listless and confused, he couldn't do anything but listen to one half of the rest of the truly insane conversation.

With enough concentration, he was finally able to raise his head just as the man hung up and was finally able to see who had taken him. He wished he was surprised to see Mike, but after earlier that night, all he felt was a dull feeling of 'Of Course'. He didn't recognize the man standing next to Mike, the one who had spoken to Dean. He was tall, blond, stern-looking as he studied Cas's phone, then keyed something into another device. He then pulled Cas's phone apart, dug out a small piece of plastic and ground it under his heel with a satisfied smirk.

"Don't want anyone trying to track you now, do we?" He turned to Mike. "I have to say, brother, I was feeling a guilty saddling you with surveillance detail, but mmmmhmmm, he is some very pretty eye-candy, isn't he?"

Mike snorted. "Boring as hell, though. I don't know what Winchester sees in him."

"Well, for his sake, I hope it's something good." The blond grabbed a chair and positioned it so he was sitting directly in front of Cas. "So, Castiel, tell me: how good is your boyfriend at bluffing? Because I have to say, he sounded awfully convincing."

Cas just glared at him.

"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Luke Angelus. They call me Lucifer. I believe you know my brother, Michael."

Angelus. Cas recognized the name; no one who lived in the area could miss it. These two ran one of the biggest criminal networks in the Midwest. Lucifer had been indicted some time ago, but released after paying a rather significant bond; he had a hell of a lawyer. Cas swallowed the surge of fear.

"But back to Dean-o. Has he told you anything about Victor Henriksen?"

"Just that he's dead," Cas spit out.

"You'd better hope he isn't, sweet cheeks. 'Cause he's your one chance of seeing daylight again." His grin grew wider as a knife appeared in his hand, seemingly from nowhere. "Hopefully your boyfriend will see reason; although if he doesn't, I suppose I get a chance to play. I never get to get my hands dirty anymore." He slid the knife blade along the neckline of Cas's shirt, a sharp line of pain blazing in its wake, then dragged a finger through the blood that welled up. "Being management can be so ... very ... unfulfilling." The knife dug a little deeper with each word.

* * *

The precinct was in night mode, the skeleton staff moving in hushed and muted tones given the hour. Dean sat at his desk, pulling every FBI file related to Victor that he could access. The cases he was involved in, the investigation into the bombing, looking for anything that seemed off. No red flags, nothing out of place. All of Vic's cases had been reassigned - one guy had even gotten off at trial because Vic wasn't there to testify.

At the same time, his mind was running constantly, trying to figure out how to find Cas. There weren't any distinguishing noises on the call. He thought again about calling Cas's friends but held off. His gut told him that this guy meant business.

The words on the screen blurred and danced, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He checked his phone yet again to makes sure he hadn't missed Psycho's call. When he looked back at the list of search results, he groaned. He'd been through every file that even mentioned Victor - with no definitive proof either way. The only photos were of the building - blown mostly to pieces; no photos of the bodies were on file. There were some dental records but he wasn't going to risk Cas's life against the hope that Psycho would take those as proof of death.

"Whatcha doin', Dean?" He looked up to see Jody, dressed in sweats, looking tired and puzzled.

"Nothing. Just catching up."

She frowned. "At 2 in the morning?"

He shrugged. "It's quiet. What are you doing here?"

"Claire decided to go all vigilante over some creeper harassing the girls at one of the bars downtown. Again." She looked at her watch. "I'm letting her stew in lockup for a little while longer."

"Sounds like she was doing a good thing."

"Oh I got no problem with her taking the guy down. It's the fake ID she used to get into the bar that's got my panties twisted. Mind if I sit with you?"

He glanced at his screen, trying to think up a convincing deflection when Bobby stormed in to the office. He zeroed in on Dean immediately.

"What in blazes are you doing, boy?"

"Uhhhh..."

He swung Dean's monitor around. "Henriksen?"

"I just ..." Dean looked guiltily between the two. "Just wanted some more info on wh -"

"Oh Dean," Jody sat down and laid a warm hand on his shoulder. "I really thought you were getting past this, with Castiel and all."

He tried not to wince at the mention of Cas's name.

"Stow the touchy feely crap, Mills," Bobby growled. "That's a flagged file - which is why I got a call from the local FBI AD at ball o'clock and dragged myself down here."

Bobby's glare barely registered with Dean as he stared at his computer, wondering which file had triggered the alert. Holy shit ... there's an alert on at least one of these files. That had to mean something? And fuck, if it did, if there was a chance Victor was alive, how the hell was he supposed to get Cas back? Even if the Feds were willing to cooperate, it's not like they could trade Vic for Cas. They obviously couldn't let him anywhere near this Psycho.

But no, he would have been told if Victor had survived the bombing, wouldn't he? They had been in a relationship. Dean was a cop, so not a security risk. They would have had to tell him.

"Now it is damn late to have to deal with discipline, but the FBI will have my ass in front of the governor if I don't do something."

Dean almost laughed. As if his job was the thing he was worried about right now. His former lover might be back from the dead, negating(?) the trauma and distress Dean had gone through over the past years, and his current lover was being held by some whacked-out dude who apparently had more info on Victor than Dean did.

He struggled to pull in air against the sudden tightening of his chest, the soft sounds of the station's nighttime operations almost entirely muted beneath the sound of his own too fast heartbeat, as he gasped in useless breath after useless breath. He dug his fingers into his thighs, in an attempt to keep his hands from shaking.

This hadn't happened to him in years. It couldn't happen now. Cas needed him, the FBI had to know someone was after one of their agents, their cases. He could panic later. He squeezed a little harder, focusing on the pinpoints of physical pain, started a slow count for breath in and out.

As he started out of the fog, he found Jody kneeling in front of him, slowly counting each breath for him, calm, quiet, consistent. Bobby, looking uncomfortable and concerned, was half sitting against the desk behind her.

Another couple of minutes, and he sat back, nodded sharply.

"You back with us?" Jody asked.

"Yeah." His voice was surprisingly steady.

"You gonna tell us what that was about?" Bobby asked gruffly.

Dean took one more deep, cleansing breath and looked at them. "Yeah. Yeah, I need to talk to you." He looked around, barely anyone there, but even one stray word could spell disaster. "Your office?"

Bobby frowned but led the way to his office. He leaned against the edge of the desk, giving Dean a measuring look. Jody closed the door behind them before taking a seat, urging Dean to take the other visitor's chair.

He didn't want to sit. He wanted to run, to punch some one/thing, to scream or fight or anything other than research and talking and generally being entirely useless in getting Cas back. But he needed Bobby and Jody to understand how important this was. He needed them on his side, so he sat down and took a deep breath and started talking.

"Someone took Cas." He fell silent when he heard the actual words hanging in the air.

Jody and Bobby traded confused looks.

"When you say 'took' him ... " Jody prompted. Under normal circumstances, Dean would be pissed as hell to hear her use the 'shaken witness' voice on him, but ...

"I mean, someone abducted him," he clarified. "Grabbed him from a club earlier tonight."

"You were there?" Bobby asked, taking a seat behind his desk and powering on his computer.

"No, I wasn't there." How differently could things have gone had he just taken Cas up on his invitation to come out with them?

"Then how do you -"

"I got a call, alright? Heard Cas's voice, then some jackass demanded to know where Victor is in exchange for Cas."

"Victor?"

Dean nodded.

"Victor Henriksen?"

"Yeah. Guy seems pretty convinced he's still alive."

"He can't be," Jody murmured. "Could he?" They both look at Bobby.

"Don't look at me. I ain't heard anything about it." He tapped a few keys and looked at Dean. "Now, about what time did you get the call?"

"No!" Dean's chair skidded behind him as he leaped to his feet. "No official report. No investigation."

"Now come on, Dean. You know better than that."

He did. He knew the oath he had sworn; he knew how criminals would prey on victim's fear and insecurities. "I know what I heard. This guy will hurt Cas if he thinks I went official here."

Bobby hesitated, then dug through one of his drawers to pull out a wrinkled, pre-printed form.

"We'll keep it out of the system. For now," he cautioned. "But you are making a report, for all our sakes."

Dean hastily scribbled down all the pertinent information, signed the paper, and then looked at the other two.

"I don't know what to do." He shook his head. "The guy's gonna call back. I don't have any proof that Victor's dead, no clue where Cas is, or how to get him out even if I did know..."

"Okay, calm down, Winchester. Here's what we're gonna do. I'll reach out to my contacts at the FBI, see if I can't get the story straight from the horse's mouth. Jody is going to very casually start a trace on Novak's phone - who've we got in tech that can be trusted?"

"Charlie," Dean and Jody replied simultaneously.

"Wake her up, then. And Dean, you'll start combing through tonight's incident reports, see if you spot anything interesting."

They heard the raised voices as soon as they opened Bobby's door. Jody reluctantly broke off to head to her desk, while Bobby and Dean followed the commotion to the front desk.

"Screw 48 hours. We're telling you he was kidnapped!"

"Shit." Dean stopped in his tracks when he saw them. He recognized Gabriel from some pictures at Cas's apartment, and the other guy with the bizarre accent must be Balthazar. A concerned looking woman stood behind them. What was Gabe's wife's name? Carrie, Kayla...

Bobby looked at him.

"Cas's friends - the ones he went out with tonight," he answered Bobby's unspoken question.

"Balls. This changes things."

Dean sighed. It was going to be much harder to keep things under wraps with these two on alert.

"Hey!" Balthazar's voice rang out, even louder than he had been already. "You! You're Dean, right?"

"Go, talk to 'em. See if you can't calm them down a bit."

Before Dean could protest, Bobby turned on his heel and hightailed it back to his office.

"Yeah. And you're Gabe and Balthazar, right?" Dean walked out casually and leaned over the counter. "How can I help you?"

"Have you heard from Cas?"

"Yeah, y'know he texted me earlier that he was pretty tired and heading home for the night." The lie felt sour on his tongue.

"Well he's not there." Gabe looked like he was ready to crawl over the divider. "We were just there. He didn't tell us he was leaving."

His wife put a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Gabriel." He took a deep breath.

"Come on, man. You know Cas. He wouldn't just leave without saying anything to one of us."

Dean could feel the muscles jumping in his jaw.

"How do you know he's not home? He might just be asleep," he added desperately.

"He's not. I have an emergency key. And if your best friend getting kidnapped isn't an emergency, I don't know what is!" Gabe's voice was rising again. Balthazar was glaring daggers at Dean and even Kali (that was her name, he was almost certain) looked angrily frustrated.

He looked around, concerned at the attention they were drawing.

"Give 'em visitor passes," he told the desk attendant. "Come on back."


	10. Chapter 10

**Unknown Number**  
 **Chapter 10**  
 _CW: canon-typical violence  
see Chapter 1 for more Notes_

* * *

Dean led the way back to the Detectives' Office, his thoughts bouncing around his brain like bumper cars. He had no idea what to say to wave them off. Would Psycho hold it against Cas if someone other than Dean reported him missing? Would he even know? Dean didn't really want to take that chance.

Jody looked up when they entered. "Oh, Dean. Bobby needs to see you right away."

Dean glanced back at the three already crowding into the cramped space. "Uh, Jody, these are Cas's friends: Balthazar, Gabriel, and Kali. They were out with Cas earlier tonight and can't find him."

She nodded. "Take a seat, please. We can't file a missing -"

"48 hours, we know," Balthazar interrupted sharply. "But we also know Cas, and this isn't like him."

She held up a hand and silence fell. "While we can't open an official investigation, we can certainly look into it informally. Dean, I got this. Why don't you go see what Bobby needs?"

He blinked, trying to figure out what had just happened. She gave him a small smile and a little shooing motion.

"uhhh... Yeah, okay. You guys are in good hands." He nodded and walked out with Jody's "Now let's start with where you were tonight," following him down the hallway.

"Hey." He paused awkwardly in Bobby's doorway when he saw his captain on the phone.

Bobby motioned him forward. "C'mon in. I've got a laptop for you here - start researching. Yeah, I'm still here," he barked into the phone, then scowled. "And on hold 'd think people were asleep or something."

Dean sat at the laptop, then leaned back to look down the hallway as if he could see what was happening in his office.

"I thought Jody might do better with that group than you, Dean."

"Yeah. Good call. I hate lying to their faces." With a quick shake of his head, he resettled himself and started scanning through the night's incident reports, Bobby's voice intermittently growling in the background.

* * *

Cas had no clue how long he'd been in the damned chair, time stretching interminably around them as Luke Angelus ... played. If there were windows, they hadn't revealed any light, which could mean it wasn't even dawn yet. Or they could be covered and days could have passed. He didn't feel hungry though, so probably not days, although he had no real benchmark for how his body reacted to torture. And really, there was no other word for it.

Another slice of pain; another pleased giggle from Luke. He seemed to revel in tormenting Cas, leaving shallow cuts along his skin, his eyes lighting up dreadfully every time he drew blood. And each time, the blade would slow, press just a bit deeper for a moment. Each time Cas waited for the thrust and the pain, the inexorable, empty blackness. Then Luke would draw back just enough with a smile, a laugh, a taunt, and begin again, thinking, planning, eyes raking over Cas to find 'just the right spot,' leaving just enough time for Cas's mind to wander off to debate time and physiology and how one would cover warehouse windows.

His whole world boiled down to his immediate surroundings: the chair, Luke, the knife, his phone laying useless on the floor where Luke had dropped it. Occasionally, Mike would wander into view, roll his eyes and walk away, the sound of metal scraping metal echoing as the door opened or closed. Cas had no idea where the other guy had gone.

No single cut was too bad, too deep, too painful to handle individually, but the accumulation of pain was growing - slowly, inexorably - the pain rooting deep in his consciousness, his body, his soul. He wanted to hold out till Dean found a way to get him out of this - but it was getting harder and harder. But what could he do? He couldn't even struggle away from the blade. Screaming was an option, but he was doing his best not to play into Luke's game, trying not to react, not to focus on what might happened. But the remnants of whatever drugs they'd given him were still making it hard to focus on anything other than the pain which cut through his mental fog just long enough to wake burning trails of neurons.

He tried not to think about the impossibility of what they had asked of Dean, the fact that these may well be his final memories.

Mike appeared again. No, not Mike. Michael. Michael Angelus. He sighed as he watched Luke withdraw the knife with a satisfied flourish.

"Luke!"

Luke examined the blood on the knife for a moment before turning to face him with an irritated sigh.

"Why are you interrupting my 'me time,' Brother?"

"Because I don't want you to kill our only leverage, you asshole!"

"Mikey, I know what I'm doing." He turned back to Cas, pressing his palm over one of the deeper cuts, the sting against the edges of raw flesh an almost welcome change from the rest of the pain. Cas grunted and tried again to duck away, again coming up short against the restraints. Luke leered down at him.

"And possibly we should call Winchester. Make sure he's not trying to be a hero."

Luke threw his phone at Michael. "You call. I'm busy." He tapped the knife against his lips. "I think it's time we started going a little deeper."

He knelt next to Cas's chair, his eyes focused as he lined the knife up to a long stripe he'd traced down Cas's side. Luke's breath was warm against his ear. "Go ahead and scream. I wanna hear it."

The pressureburningpain had Cas choking on air, gasping for relief, until he realized that the ragged, broken screams echoing in his ears were his.

* * *

Dean was still staring at unproductive reports - drunk and disorderly, a couple of teenagers egging cars, nothing out of the ordinary - when Bobby slammed the phone down.

"Balls!"

"No luck?"

"I'm not through yet, boy. But no, nothing so far. Still got a few more people supposed to call me back."

Dean closed the useless reports and drew in a shuddering breath. "What am I gonna do, Bobby?"

"We will get him back," Bobby promised. But he looked as lost as to 'how' as Dean felt.

"Yeah," he murmured and pushed back from the small desk. This was getting to be too much: Cas missing, Vic maybe alive, lying to Cas's friends, and they just sat there spinning their wheels while Cas was enduring god only knew what.

His phone rang and _Unknown Caller_ blinked across the display.

"Bobby," he hissed, urgent but somehow calm. Bobby nodded, immediately picking up the phone and already speaking quietly when Dean answered.

"Yeah?"

"Are you always this rude, Dean? You don't sound welcoming at all." The voice was different than the guy he'd spoken to earlier, meaning there were at least two of these goons to worry about.

"Sorry," he growled, entirely unapologetic but happy to play stupid little games that would keep the line open longer. "This is Dean Winchester. How can I help you?"

Laughter. Dean grit his teeth. This laugh was more amused condescension than the slightly manic one earlier. He wasn't sure which one was better.

"I think it was made very clear what we need you to do. I'm just checking whether you're going to play ball or not."

"I need more time."

The caller sucked in a short breath. "Time is not something Castiel has a lot of, Dean. Have to say I'm disappointed. The way he talked about you, I thought he meant a little more to you. I guess you're just not that into him." A sigh. "But just in case ... "

Sounds gradually grew louder and Dean could make out Cas's voice screaming. Dean's fingers ached from gripping the phone, his heart lodged somewhere around his throat.

"That's not it. Man, you think I know more than I really do." His word spilled out, like he could stop things, build a wall between Cas and whoever was hurting him, if he just spoke quickly enough. "And to find that info without anyone knowing - it takes time. Please."

"Hmmmm... Maybe you really don't know ... " the caller mused. "Well, keep trying, Dean. Remember, Cas is depending on you." The line went dead except for Cas's scream echoing in Dean's mind, and he looked to Bobby, pleading. Bobby listened for a second and shook his head slowly.

"Burner phone. Not enough time to get a location."

"Damn it!" He pushed away from the desk and paced Bobby's small office as he gave him the pertinent details of the call.

"Why don't you take a break? Just a couple minutes," Bobby forestalled Dean's automatic protest. "Stretch your legs, clear your head. Ain't any use just wearing a groove in the floor. I'll get a status update from Jody and Charlie and when you come back we'll see where we're at."

Dean wanted to argue just for sake of arguing, but one look at Bobby's face told him it would be pointless. It wasn't as if he was doing any good anyway. He stood.

"I'll be back in five," he said as he headed out the door, his mind replaying everything about the night, going over each detail of the phone calls, but there was nothing to help him. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice someone standing by the exit until Kali stopped him with a brief touch.

"May I speak with you, Detective?"

He looked around for Gabriel or Balthazar.

"They've gone to the car already."

"Yeah, okay." He rubbed his eyes and smiled weakly. "But call me Dean."

"Of course."

She followed him outside, and Dean drew in a lungful of cool air.

"What can I do for you?"

She was quiet a moment, studying him in the dull yellow lamplight. "Castiel is very important to Gabriel," she finally said slowly. "And Gabriel is important to me."

Dean nodded, confused at this kind of obvious information.

"Something's wrong and you know it." She held up a hand. "Don't bother denying it. You've got a horrible poker face - at least as far as I've seen tonight. Even Zar and Gabe would have picked up on it if they weren't so caught up in their own worry."

Tinges of panic prickled across Dean's skin. "Kali ... "

"I'm an attorney, Dean. I've worked with your brother. He speaks of you highly, and I have enough respect for his abilities to give you the benefit of the doubt. But I am ... concerned."

Dean felt trapped by her intense scrutiny. He shook his head.

"Kali, I -"

"Don't lie to me, Dean." And hell, he hoped he'd never face her as the opposition in court. She was damn scary when she wanted to be.

"Yeah, okay."

"Do you know where Cas is?"

Not wanting to meet her eyes, he scanned the parking lot behind her. He could make out the figures of Balthazar and Gabriel leaning against a car, sharing what he was just going to go ahead and assume was a cigarette. He was already juggling too many emotional and professional axes to deal with it being anything else.

"Do you, Dean?"

"Not exactly," he breathed out, the words sharp with guilt and fear.

"Can I assume you're doing everything in your power to -" She cut off at Dean's sour look. "Of course."

She sighed. "Your partner did a wonderful job of placating them for now. And I can keep them out of your hair for a while longer. But if they haven't heard from him by around noon ..."

Dean squinted at the sky and saw the first faint lightening just visible at the horizon. The same night, just a matter of hours since that first call.

"If they want money," her voice was dark and soft at the same time, the night sky made aural, "I can make that happen."

Dean looked at her inquisitively.

"I know people. And I know a lot secrets."

"Blackmail?"

"Favors." She shrugged. "Would it help?"

"No. But ... thank you."

She laid a hand on his arm. "Call as soon as you can."

He nodded as she walked to the car. He stared at the nearly empty lot long after they had driven away, exhaustion cascading over him; he was too tired to even blink, held up by sheer stubbornness and a very accommodating brick wall.

Dimly aware of the door opening behind him, he still jumped when Jody's voice broke the silence.

"Hey. Bobby wants to do a status update. Come on in."

He followed her silently, moving without conscious volition as she directed him into a chair in Bobby's office, mentally noting that Charlie was now tapping away at the laptop he'd been using.

"So, Dean and I got nothin'," Bobby started. "You girls come up with anything?"

"Kinda. So I sent Claire to the bar they were at tonight to dig around quietly."

Bobby cleared his throat. Jody shrugged sheepishly. "Less likely to draw attention than, say, me." He grunted and rolled his eyes. She continued.

"The bartender was able to confirm Cas was there and the last time she'd seen him was heading to the back alley to check on a sick friend. A friend who doesn't match Gabe or Balthazar's description."

Dean sat frozen, eyes fixed on Bobby's nameplate, unable to look at anyone else, hands balled into aching fists in his lap. They had taken advantages of Cas's loyalty and compassion.

Charlie picked up the report. "Since that gave us an approximate time, we started looking at the club's video surveillance."

Dean perked up, but shut back down as soon as Charlie shook her head. "The camera on the club's back entrance was mysteriously disabled about an hour before we think Cas went back there."

"This is what you dragged me back in here for? To tell us that these guys know enough not to get caught on camera? Great job, cracked the case wide open. Let's go get 'em!"

Jody's "Dean, stop it," was only slighter louder than Bobby's "Shut the hell up." Charlie just stared him down, one eyebrow raised.

"Ah fuck, I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm just ... " He waggled his hands uselessly.

She broke into a grin. "Aw, I know Dean. Don't worry, we're still besties. Although when this is all over, you're gonna be buying me my caffeine for about a month."

"Deal."

" _Because_ you know me better than that. Where one door closes, I pick up a sledgehammer. If I gotta, which I didn't really. I just pulled up traffic cam footage from the surrounding blocks."

"Okay," Dean tried to tread lightly. "But Charlie, they're not gonna put Cas up front when they've just abducted him."

"Right. But I thought we could see if any vehicles were loitering or circling... or if anything else looked suspicious."

She bit her lip and hit a key on the laptop. "Like this."

The monitor mounted on the wall lit up with a freeze frame of two men in the front seat of a dark van.

"Is that ..." Jody spoke haltingly. "Is that who I think it is?"

Dean stared at the screen, Bobby's confirmation unnecessary. He had just looked at a photo of the driver earlier - in one of Victor's case files. The guys he had been picking up when he had been killed had been part of the Angelus Syndicate, offering evidence against their bosses.

He swallowed, putting together the jagged puzzle pieces of the past few weeks together just a little too late.

The feeling of being watched. Jogging Mike, appearing out of nowhere, a little too interested in Cas, finding any reason to keep in contact with him.

Michael Angelus.

"Son of a bitch."


End file.
